


Grace Potential

by Twilight_Rose



Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Rose/pseuds/Twilight_Rose
Summary: Six months have passed since Panchaea, and Adam has fallen apart at the seams. No amount of credits can 'fix' him this time. In a last ditch attempt to help him overcome his demons, David calls in a favour, a psychologist named Grace, tasked with helping a damaged, extremely fragile man. Adult themes throughout. Based after Human Revolution, in-between and during Mankind Divided.





	1. Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many chapters this will have, as of yet.

Adam sat, in the waiting room of Oak Wood Therapy, twiddling his thumbs. He wanted a smoke, his head throbbed, and he felt out of it. He'd been losing sleep, and with the constant travelling and jobs, he couldn't find the time  _to_  sleep.

_Six months._ It had been six months since Panchea. Since that day, the agent felt like he'd been drifting through life, without any purpose, without focus.

_Five months_. It had been five months since Megan was arrested. Police investigations found serious breaches in information, on Sarif employees, and a project file, untitled, which detailed a 'back-up plan', just in case her and her team failed in creating a quote on quote 'cure', so augmented people would no longer have to take Neuropozene. Adam threw up into the bin by his desk, and Frank's face paled, when another file was opened.

Pictures of severely ill augmented patients, starved of both food, and Neuropozene, hooked up to machines. Different coloured liquids were in IV bags. Tubes of the liquids flowed down, and into these patients. Gaunt and drawn faces screamed out at the agent, who couldn't bring himself to look away, despite nausea, bubbling in his gut. Panchea made him realise just how much of a double-edged sword the anti-augment rejection drug was.

Take too much? End up a gibbering, shaking mess, convulsing their way into oblivion.

Don't take enough, and agony consumed their bodies. It wracked their very being, made them submissive, and vulnerable. They begged for death, pleaded, to an unknown force, that Adam could not see, to kill them. End their misery.

They even begged Adam to murder them.  _Begged._ Screeching echoed throughout the hallways, his C.A.S.I.E aug registered pain, their anguish hurt him physically. He covered his ears, and grit his teeth, the only way he could get through the hellhole of a facility.

Then, he found Megan, and her team. His girlfriend's eyes widened, and she gasped. Adam was there, right there, in front of her. She witnessed him die, six months prior. So many bullets pierced his body, and there was nothing she, or anyone else could do to stop it.

So  _how_  was he there?

She knew he'd changed, he'd been augmented, that she  _could_  see. But, when he withdrew his shades, she saw his eyes, and realised just how different he was. They didn't have that warmth anymore, that mix of blue and grey, that always seemed to glimmer. Now, replaced with a yellowish tinged green, that radiated nothing. That saddened her.

When she tried to explain what she'd done, using his DNA, and how it would save hundreds of thousands of people, Adam couldn't comprehend it. His knee-jerk reaction was to shout at her, then, when she tried to touch him, he flinched. Numbness tingled throughout this foreign, metal body.

If he still didn't understand, or accept his new body, than why should he accept what Megan did? She'd changed too, in those six months, it seemed.

After he'd arrived back, at Sarif Industries, Megan rushed to speak with him, but Frank held her back. He'd heard what she said, and whilst muffled, he heard enough, to know that Jensen was angry, really angry. So, the tech guy refused to let go of her, despite her protests.

* * *

And so, Adam slipped out of his haze, and sighed, slicking back some of his flyaway hair.

_Fuck this._

He stood, straightened his jacket, and walked out of the building.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, Jensen".

Adam jumped, and growled. "Fuck, Frank, leave it out, will you? I am sick of this".

Frank scoffed, and moved from the shadows.

"Sick of what, brooding? Moaning? Adam, it isn't just you, who went through hell and back. Unlike you, however, they don't mention it every five minutes".

Adam's patience was wearing thin. "You try having nightmares, where everyone is being slaughtered around you! If I can't help myself, how the hell am I supposed to help anyone else, hm?"

The tech adviser frowned. "I didn't know that. I know Grace, the psychologist David referred you too. She won't make you bear your soul, if that's what you think. We just want you to talk, see if you can find some closure".

Adam narrowed his eyes. "Jensen, I am not saying you  _will_ find closure. I,  _we,_  are hoping that you will. We want the old Jensen back. The one before Panchea".

The agent sighed, and held his head. "Fine. I need a".

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, but Frank snatched them away. The pair exchanged glares. "I thought you said you were going to stop smoking".

Adam huffed. "I am,  _after_  this one".

Frank laughed, and opened the packet. He passed him two cigarettes. "One for now. One for  _after_  the appointment. Which is in a minute's time".

He walked off quietly, leaving Adam to light up, and breathe a stream of smoke, in the direction of his retreating form.

* * *

When he was done, Adam stumped out the cigarette, and walked back into the practice.

"Adam? Adam Jensen?"

Adam looked up, and saw a small woman, a few feet away, with a clipboard in her hands. She looked really young, barely old enough to even have a degree in psychology.

The brunette haired woman smiled, and nodded, light brown eyes crinkling slightly. "Good afternoon Mr Jensen. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. One of my colleagues has had a baby, and so, I took on some of her appointments. Shall we?"

Adam nodded, and stood up, following the woman, into her office.

He took a deep breath, and waited outside her door.

_Well, this is it._

_Can I even open up?_

_If I can't to Megan, a woman I know..._

_...And am still in love with, then how am I supposed to, with a woman I don't even know?_

He sighed.

_Shit._


	2. Yours Truly

Grace sat down, and gestured for Adam to do the same. As he shut her door, he noticed her name on the door.

_Dr Grace Fielding Ph.D_

Usually, little things like that would go by the agent in a blur, a hazy moment. The whir of the coffee maker, in the corner of Grace's office took his attention next. Then, a soft, mid-afternoon sun ray peeked out, from a blind on the window. Everything was going in slow motion, Adam just about caught Grace talking to him.

"Hm?"

Grace picked up a small grey cup, and held it out, toward him, repeating her question. "Would you like a coffee, Mr Jensen?"

Adam blinked a few times, withdrew his shades, and nodded. "Strong, one sugar. And it's  _Adam_ ".

"Okay Adam".

As Grace made his coffee, she felt happy, that he had retracted his shades. It felt a tad  _alien_  to speak to someone, when you couldn't see their eyes, gauge their reaction to what you were saying. The swirling green and yellow orbs gave away a lot more than he intended. He was suffering, that much was obvious.

But,  _admitting_  it? That would take time, if he  _ever_  did.

"Here". Grace handed him the cup, and sat down in front of him. "Were you informed as to why you are here?"

Adam sipped some of the red hot coffee, and made a face. "Yeah. Sarif wants me to bare my soul. Not happening".

Grace tilted her head. "Then why  _are_  you here?"

Adam swallowed a groan. "Because I  _need_ to bear it. Doc...".

Grace waved a hand. "It's Grace, please. I won't make you talk. That wouldn't fair. I want you to do it, on your own merit".

He smirked. "Really read the 'Psychology 101 manual' huh".

Grace chuckled quietly. "The entire thing. I can quote it, word from word, if you wish".

Adam fought the urge to crack a smile. Grace was on the ball, he had to admit. And he appreciated that she wasn't going to force him to talk about it.

"I'll pass,  _doc"._

Grace shook her head, and laughed. "I was told you'd be stubborn. That is fine however,  _for now"._

The change in her voice confused him for a second, before his C.A.S.I.E aug registered a large surge in alpha brainwaves.

_She'd like to think she'd backed me into a corner, but, I'm not having any of that._

She continued. "Think of this me as an acquaintance, if that helps. I find getting to know someone, before trying to help unravel whatever is afflicting them can help, dramatically. I apologise if I made you flinch".

He did flinch, and she  _saw_ that.

_Shit._

Adam grunted. "Look. Doc, I don't need to be spoken too, like I am a belligerent asshole".

Grace called his bluff. "Then don't act like one, and I won't have too".

* * *

Adam would have retorted, had he not slipped into yet  _another_  memory daze.

A man, cowering, in the corner, of a darkened room.

The clock struck midnight, and the man looks at it.

All that can be heard is tick tock, tick tock...

...Tick.

Adam realises the man is _him._

_.._ Tock.

He gasps, and shuts his eyes.

When he opened them, he is on the floor, in the same position as this 'memory' of himself.

He felt trapped, constricted by his own mind. Thousands died by his actions...

...But,  _millions_ survived. Shouldn't he feel better about that? That should placate the man, but, it didn't.

Every time he tried to seek help, his voice would break, his 'false' limbs would shake, and his will would shatter.

He couldn't breathe. It felt like someone had shoved his head under freezing cold water. The cold would take his breath away, and thus, he'd open his mouth, and the water would invade it. He'd choke, feel like he was about to vomit, but nothing would come out.

All that would happen is dry retching, leaving his throat burning, convulsing.

* * *

Coughing alerted Grace, and she jumped. She grabbed a plastic cup, and filled it with some water. She put a tentative hand on Adam's shoulder, and handed him the cup. He drank all of the cool beverage in one gulp.

The doctor looked at the clock on the wall.

_Fifteen minutes._

They'd only been there for fifteen minutes, before Adam had retreated into a dark part of his mind. Grace knew this, from the troubled furrowing of his dark brows, and the grimace on his lips.

The doctor decided to wait it out, and sipped some of her lukewarm coffee. Her practise bought the really cheap coffee, that most people struggled to swallow, without gagging. She swallowed some of it, and pursed her lips in disgust.

She grabbed her interactive notepad, and pen, and began writing on it, leaving Adam, regressing.

* * *

_Patient: Adam Jensen_

_Referral_ _: David Sarif CEO (Urgent case)_

_Workplace: Sarif Industries_

_DOB: March 9th, 1993_

_Patient is distant, in a highly regressive state. Unwilling to talk about much of the ordeals he has been through. Troubled character, quiet, a little anger tinges his attitude. To be expected. In the space of fifteen minutes, no progress made. However, as this is his first, and I hope, not last appointment, I remain positive, that I may be able to assist his recovery. In retrospect, I cannot say much more than that._

* * *

Grace put the pad down, and noted that Adam no longer looked confused. He looked sad, emotional.

He was about to cry, and that increased her stress level. David had said that Adam would be a tough nut to crack, but,  _this._ This was far beyond anything she had ever seen before. The man was crumbling in front of her...

..And all she could do, was watch on, helplessly.

* * *

The agent shot up from his seat, grunted and left the room, hurriedly. Grace sighed, and picked up her pad.

She scrolled down the list of email addresses she had, and stopped, when she saw Sarif's.

She wasn't quite sure what to write, but, she knew she had to write something. He would want to know what happened, in their first session.

_Mr Sarif._

_This is Grace Fielding. I regret to inform you that Adam may not be coming back here. His state of mind is questionable. And I fear if I cannot get through, he may well be sectioned. I, and I am sure that you, nor anyone at Sarif Industries would want that. Please, if you get the chance, could you speak with him?_

_Thanks,_

_Grace_


	3. Hanging By A Thread

Grace was worried. Adam had not been in touch with her since their first appointment. She wondered if he was simply ignoring her calls, and emails.

After a month, she decided to go to his place of work, and see if he was there.

When she arrived at his office, she only saw one man, Frank, and he looked exhausted, exasperated.

Grace waved, and forced a smile. "Morning Frank".

"Good morning Grace. I take it this is a flying visit?"

Grace raised a brow. "Should it be?"

Frank nodded solemnly. "Yes. Adam's gone AWOL. I, nor Sarif, or Malik have heard anything from him in over a week. He's disconnected his comm unit, not used his phone, or a laptop, and so, I cannot trace him".

Grace sighed, and rubbed the back of her head. "Want a drink or anything? I do. I'd say something strong, but at". She looked at her watch. "10.46 am, it's a bit early for that. Tea?"

Frank picked up a file, and handed it to the doctor. The  _same_  file, that made Adam vomit, and himself turn ashen. "Adam wouldn't want you to see this, but, if he won't tell you this himself, which I am sure you aware now, that he never would...".

Grace's eyes widened, and she put the file on the desk beside her. "This is a huge breach of privacy Frank. I cannot possibly read this. I want the man himself to tell me. That would be a major breakthrough, if he's able".

Frank rolled his eyes, and huffed. "He won't. He's as stubborn as they get. He can't comprehend that asking for help does not correlate to weakness".

Grace smirked and scoffed. "Neither can you".

Frank waved his hand. "Please, I am not  _that_ bad".

Grace looked at the file, and felt part of her want to pick it up, and take a peek.

But, she knew she shouldn't.

After a period of stagnant pause, the doctor looked the tech adviser, dead in the eye.

"He'll have to be sectioned Frank, he'll be found, and taken to an institution, by force. If I speak with Sarif, and get the go ahead...".

Frank butted in, shooting up from his chair, with a start. "You can't. Adam won't go easily. Doing this will only make him worse".

Grace bit her cheek. "What should I do then? Wait until he gets in contact with one of us, then give him a straitjacket, and march him into a padded room? What if he does something rash Frank?"

Frank looked at the floor, and tucked back some errant strands of black hair, that had fallen from his ponytail. "I don't know Grace, and that's what frightens me. All of this technology, and yet, we will never know what is going on, in Jensen's head".

The woman sighed, and agreed with him. "True. Need a drink, strong preferably. Want one?"

Frank sat back down, and handed her his mug. "Coffee, bit of cream, one sugar, right?"

He nodded, and Grace walked off. He busied himself, looking for any trace of Adam.

And he got one. From an unknown number, calling Malik.

It was Adam, he knew it.

* * *

Faridah had just finished refueling the VTOL, when her phone rang. The unknown number had a tinge of nervousness creep into her mind, but Frank pinged her, telling her it must be Adam, and so, she answered it.

Adam gave her no time to even say hello...

"Malik, I'll keep it short, since I know I can't do anything, without people knowing. Tell Grace to meet me, you know where".

The pilot was confused. "Jensen? Huh? Where?"

Adam sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The last place you visited, before you came back here. Fly her there, today, 8 pm. I don't want  _anyone_  else there".

Malik knew where to go.

_Cafe Verde, by the Golden Gate Bridge._

"Er, okay Jensen. She's here so, I'll tell her".

Adam shook his head. "No, tell Frank to, since they know each other".

Malik ruffled a hand through her cropped black hair and nodded. "Got it. Jensen?"

Adam felt a grin tug at his lips. "What, fly-girl?"

Malik chuckled sadly. "Take care okay?"

Adam didn't answer...

* * *

Grace came back, a few minutes later, to see a woman, standing, in Frank's office.

Faridah turned, and tipped her head.

"Faridah Malik, I'm the chief helicopter pilot here".

Grace gave Frank his mug, put hers down, and shook Malik's hand.

"Grace Fielding, supposed to be Adam's psychologist. Nice to meet you".

"Excuse me, I have to go talk to Sarif, get air clearance and landing permission".

Malik walked around her, and left the office. Frank's eyes followed her, and he looked less stressed.

"Adam called Malik. Wants her to take you to California, tonight. The Golden Gate bridge, in Cafe Verde to be specific".

Grace picked up her polystyrene cup, and blew on the hot liquid. "Hmm? From here, that would take, what, five or so hours to get there? I'll need to get a hotel for the night then".

Frank waved his hand. "Already done, Hotel Karim".

Grace smiled. "Thank you. I'll have to leave soon then. Good thing I have the weekend off huh?"

She drank some of the coffee and hummed. "At least the coffee here doesn't taste like lukewarm piss".

An eyebrow moved up, on Frank's face, and he looked perturbed. "And  _how_  do you know what that tastes like?"

Grace laughed. "I don't. It's just, you know when you smell something, and it's particles go up your nose, and sometimes, you can taste it? This making any sense?"

The tech guy just shrugged. Grace's face lit up, and she grinned. " _You_  just shrugged. What are you, a sulking teen in their room? Hahaha".

"Stop grinning, it's disturbing".

Grace stopped grinning, and finished her coffee. "I need to get home, pack a few things. I'll come back here around two. Bye".

She waved and left the office, depositing the empty cup into the bin, as she did so.

* * *

_Four hours later_

Grace returned to Sarif Industries, with a small duffle bag in her hand. She waited for Malik in Frank's office. He wasn't there, which baffled her, as he was never one to leave the office.

If he wanted food, he'd bring it in. He'd even avoid going to the bathroom, until his bladder annoyed him enough, that he had to go.

Even a nasty bout of flu could not stop Frank, from being in work, which pissed everyone else off. They didn't want him to be in, he was sick, and would just spread it around the office.

The man would do shift after shift, surviving on energy bars, coffee, perhaps an energy drink, and the odd meal every now and again.

Grace had known him long enough to know that he was a workaholic. He lived, breathed, even slept it,  _when_  he slept, all day, every day. And whilst she admired that, the tenacity, she did wonder if he'd ever take a break, go on a holiday...

_No. You'd have to drag his cold, dead corpse off the chair._

She chuckled and coughed, as he walked into the room, with lunch.

"Bit late for lunch, don't you think? Eh, at least you are eating. May have had to scold you, again, if you didn't".

Frank placed the plate of macaroni cheese and hash browns down, and frowned. "You just love doing that, don't you?"

Grace smirked, but felt terrible for doing so. "I do, if it stops you, ending up in the hospital, from starvation". She sat down in front of him, and linked her fingers. "Look, I know you love your work, and that's great and all. But, you need to take some time out, go outside, live life, outside of the same four walls. Ah".

The doctor saw Malik walking towards her, so she stood up and grabbed her bag. "Well", she sighed, "This could go one of two ways. Either Adam listens, and agrees to restart our appointment schedule, or he runs off, after five minutes, and goes 'ghost mode' again".

Frank swallowed the mouthful of food, and shook his head. "Likely the latter. Be wary Grace, he isn't in the right frame of mind right now".

Grace nodded, and walked with Malik, to the elevator.

* * *

_Five hours later_

Grace checked in to her hotel room, and left her bag in there, only taking her phone, room key, and some credit chits. Malik's room was beside hers, but Grace knew that Adam only wanted her to speak to him, so, the pilot stayed in her room.

She dressed warm, a cold chill bit at her body, as she walked down the dark streets, aware that she was the only one there.

If Adam was here, she certainly couldn't see him.

But he was, and he knew she was there. He stayed hidden, in the shadows, leaning against Cafe Verde's wall.

Grace saw the neon green cafe sign, and stood under it, rubbing her hands together, and breathing on them. The weather was so cold, that she could see her breath, when she exhaled.

The doctor began feeling irritated. Yes, she had agreed to meet Adam, on his own terms, but, she didn't want to freeze to death, before he decided to show up.

A dark visage took her attention, and a hand on her back ushered her into the cafe.

* * *

Grace turned around, and folded her arms, a stern look marred her face. "Adam, I dislike the cold, and the darkness. It makes me feel uneasy". She sat down and huffed. "Not professional in the slightest right now, am I?"

Adam sat down, hunching as he did so. "You're not in the office, it doesn't matter".

Grace looked down his chest, and noticed what looked like a tear in his shirt.

"Adam, are you hurt?"

Adam bluffed, but had to grit his way through it. He'd been shot, the bullet went straight through his abdomen, and stung like hell. The blood was clotting now, but he could smell it. Iron tinged his nostrils, heavy, sickening, dizzying...

Bile rose it's way up his throat, and he darted up, and out of the cafe. Acid erupted from his throat, splashing the pavement, and his wound began pulsing.

Grace tried to remain calm, but, with several pairs of eyes on her, that was proving to be a difficult thing to do. She ran outside, and noticed that the way Adam was standing, his coat had shifted.

And there it was, a small hole, just above his hip, and she could see  _right_  through it.

She wasn't one to swear often, only in the worst cases, the worst possible scenarios would she swear.

This was both of  _those._

"Fucking hell, ADAM! Jesus". She fumbled in a jacket pocket, and found her phone. Near frozen fingers typed in 911, and she phoned Malik too, telling her to get to the hospital.

"Adam, I need to tell  _him"._

Adam growled, his voice raspy, throat sore. "No you don't. I just need to clean out the wound, take some painkillers, and go to sleep".

Grace wagged a finger at him. "Oh no, you are going to hospital. Get that wound looked at,  _and_ cleaned". She put a hand on the agent's shoulder, and squeezed it lightly. "I won't tell Sarif. I should, but I won't. And, if you agree to more appointments, they'll be on your terms, okay?"

Adam looked at her, eyes full of tears, though, not from being upset or angry. The hole in his body was agonizing, that was the cause of his tears. He would not let Grace see this.

She knew though, he couldn't hide it from her. The little sniffles, the grunts, the single tear, that slid down his cheek, before he caught it, and wiped it away.

Nothing shady came up on his C.A.S.I.E implant, she wasn't lying, or trying to save face.

He looked at her, grunting, which made her chuckle.

"I guess that's a yes? Okay".

Ambulance sirens were heard in the distance, and Grace wrapped her arm around Adam's shoulder.

"Here, lean on me. Just try not to hurl on this coat, it's the most expensive thing I own, don't want to ruin it".

A bubbling laugh came from the agent, as he braced himself against her, which wasn't easy, considering she was quite a few feet shorter than him. He was leering over her, more than leaning against her.

Grace looked at him, her face saying nothing. "Promise me, and yourself, that you will try to turn up, at the practise. Just  _try"._

The ambulance parked next to the pair, and Adam was put on the stretcher, Grace sat next to him.

As they drove off to the hospital, Adam shut his eyes, and tried to relax.

_Easier said than done._

He looked at Grace, before shutting his eyes again.

_I'll try..._


	4. Paper Cut

Grace sat, cross legged, in the waiting room, a few doors down, from Adam's room. She sighed, and crossed her arms. A cursory glance at the clock on the wall in front of her confirmed her suspicions. She had been waiting for seven hours. Now, it was five in the morning, and the doctor was beginning to feel weary.

A yawn forced it's way from her mouth, and she put her hand against it. The soft noise of the door opening on her left made her look at it. Malik walked in, and looked just as exhausted as she was.

"Hey".

Grace waved. "Morning". She gestured to the room Adam was put in, after his surgery. "How is he?"

Malik's mouth quirked into a smile. "He's fine, woke up a while ago. He wants to leave though". Her smile became a full on grin. "Good luck to the doctor, trying to keep him here".

Grace chuckled. "Ah, tied up in medical red tape".

Malik nodded. "Want to see him?"

Another yawn came from the doctor. "Perhaps this evening? Truthfully? I am falling asleep".

Malik agreed, and yawned herself. "Going to get out of here myself. Lets go back to the hotel".

Grace stood up, grabbed her bag, and the pair left the hospital.

* * *

_6th October 2027_

_6 pm_

Grace came back to the hospital, after getting a somewhat terrible sleep. She sighed, and made her way, to Adam's room.

She knocked on the door, apprehension rife in her mind.

Adam had said he would speak to her, that he would continue their sessions. But Grace knew better, she took what he said at face value.

If he expressed feeling that he could no longer continue, she would,  _begrudgingly_  oblige.

She walked into his room.

"Doc".

She tried to sound chipper, upbeat.

"Want me to just call you mad, and be done with it? Sadly for you, I don't give up that easily".

Adam felt caustic laughter rise up his throat, but he swallowed it down.

"That'd be the easy way out, wouldn't it?"

Grace nodded, and sat down, on the chair beside his bed. "I don't want you to feel you have to speak with me. You don't. About anything. I will not force you. I want this to be because you wish to talk".

Adam nodded. "I know. And I do. It's", he paused, and his brows furrowed, "Been a while, since I've talked, about  _any_  of this".

"That's okay. Putting all the cards on the table can be a long, hard process". She gestured to his chest, which now had a bandage on it. "Care to start with how that happened?"

Sarif's right hand man nodded. "Yesterday afternoon, I heard Police reports of rival gangs feuding in and around the apartment complex I was in".

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Heard? You mean you were listening in on their frequency?"

A slight smirk formed on Adam's lips. "I left the apartment, and heard gunshots. The cops were getting gunned down, and the few remaining were pinned. I got into the alleyway, alongside the building one of the gangs was holed up in, and found a vent. When I got to the floor they were on", he stopped again, and looked bitter. "I was surrounded almost immediately stepping onto the floor. The men used me as a hostage, they didn't know I had already spoken with the cops. They knew where I was, and battered down the door to the building. The men ran out of the room, one by one. I freed myself, before hearing what I assumed to be the cops, running in the corridor. It wasn't. It was the second gang's leader, he shot me, before being shot himself".

Grace listened intently, and shook her head, a frown on her lips. "And you decided  _not_ to go straight to the hospital? Pardon this, but I think you should have. What did the doctor say?"

Her slightly peeved tone did not go unnoticed by Adam. "I discharged myself".

Grace rolled her eyes, catching the wince he made, when he shifted his weight. "Yes, because you are clearly okay. One more day here won't kill you, Mr Jensen. I strongly advise against leaving".

With her formalities, Adam returned the sarcastic eye roll, and Grace felt a chill go down her spine. Adam's strangely coloured prosthetic eyes swirled. Was he  _scanning_ her?

Analyzing her movements? Brain waves? Her tone of voice?

She coughed lightly. "If you are quite done with  _whatever_  it is you are doing, again, I would not leave her, just yet".

Adam squinted. She was getting cocky again, a swift spike of alpha, confirming this, which made him growl.

He spat back. "This isn't one of our sessions,  _doc,_ you don't get to lecture me".

Beta flashed up, and Grace moved back, away from him. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, huffing out her discomfort.

"Fine. You win. I'm not in the mood for petty, childish behavior.  _If_ you chose to rejoin us adults, let me know. Until then, I shall steer clear of you. I need to be back at the clinic anyway". She rooted around in her purse, until she found Adam's appointment card.

"Here. If you wish to continue your therapy, your next appointment is in two weeks time, on the twentieth. We shall start with one a month, then if progress is made, move to two, then three sessions. Is that okay?"

Adam groaned, and swung his legs, in order to get out of the bed. He took the card and grunted. Grace took that highly unsubtle noise as a yes to her question, and stood up herself.

"Oookay then. I'll be going back to Detroit, with Malik. I expect to see you in two weeks Adam".

She looked at him, hazel eyes defiant. "Good night".

Adam held his side, and swore. Blood coated the thin bandage on his wound, and began to run down his abdomen.

When it dripped onto the floor, Grace turned, took one look at the agent, and wagged a finger at him.

"I did warn you about standing up, didn't I?"

He would have retorted, if a wave of dizziness and nausea hadn't hit him. He turned, and braced his hands on the mattress.

Grace left the room, and ran down the hallway, to get help. She informed the nurses of Adam's condition, and walked with them, back to the room.

* * *

Adam could have shouted at her.

Who the hell was she, to talk to him like a disobedient child?! She wasn't his mother, she had no right to do so.

_Mom..._

The short amount of time he had with her; he was mere a child, when his parents were murdered.

He needed them, badly, relied on them. After that, he became a terrified shell of himself, a child, in the clutches of White Helix.

The burden was too much, the terror came back, and he whimpered.

Grace waited outside his room, and heard that noise, and god, it felt like someone had ripped her heart in two.

The nurses asked her to leave the room. She did so, with reticence.

* * *

As she left for the hotel, her mind wandered.

Suffering affected people in different ways, many of which did not present themselves. Even when pressed, some knew how to mask their pain. Slip on the 'I am fine' mask, to fool the world, perhaps, even themselves.

Adam's type? Grace had seen that, many times before. Type B, she nicknamed it, the 'keep everything in, and don't let anyone know how you really feel' type, which Grace believed was the worst possible type to be. At least with upfront, angry people, or Type A, they would let  _everything_  out, with a barrage of emotion, vitriol. They could be a danger, to themselves, and or others, but usually burnt themselves out, and knew they needed help, in order to understand their issues, and feelings.

But Adam's type, Grace considered the to be the most  _dangerous_. With him, you  _never_  knew exactly what he was thinking, what he  _needed_. Chatting with him could feel like talking to a thick brick wall. Even if you managed to get a reply, chip at some of the bricks, they were still thick, unyielding. A force to be reckoned with.

The doctor decided that, if she needed to chisel away, at Adam's staunch facade, even if it took years to accomplish anything, she would do so.

All she could hope for was that he  _let_  her.


	5. On A Wing And A Prayer

Grace finished her lunch, and walked back to her office. She grabbed Adam's file, and looked at the clock. He was due in ten minutes. He'd promised her he would attend, but still, she had her reservations. With someone who had been through hell and back, multiple times, and someone, who didn't like to talk about things, she knew these appointments could be painfully slow. But, she was patient, and did not give up on anyone, though she was not stubborn. If someone wanted to leave, to  _give up,_ she would let them.

The dreary sky, and the darkening clouds signaled rain was coming, and Grace could only hope it had stopped, by the time she had finished her shift.

A knock on her door had her put the file back, into the drawer.

_Five minutes early._

"Come in".

Sure enough, it was Adam, and she grabbed a small grey mug. He nodded. She didn't even need to ask.

* * *

Whilst she made the coffee, she felt Adam's eye's on her back. She ignored that, despite the icy chill, down her spine. She took the mug, and once it was full, she turned, and gave it to him.

"If you wish to talk, talk. If not? That's okay. I don't expect people to just spill their guts to me", she paused, "so to speak".

The man's demeanor told her he did not wish to be here, but that he  _knew_  he needed to be.

He retracted his shades. "How have you been?"

That wasn't the question he had expected. He thought she would want to delve straight into his mind, try and prod it a bit.

His lips thinned. "Fine doc".

Grace felt a sigh coming on.

_Back to doc I see._

She understood why though. According to his file, whenever Adam got close to someone, they would either betray him, or use him, for their own gains.

His respect for people was wearing thin, and being on a first name basis with him would take time.

The respect was still there, but it was waning. Worn down, over many years.

"Good to hear that. I hear your last mission went well. The news on updated augments, and the backlash is troubling however".

Adam grumbled. "Augmented people are already seen as freaks. Non augmented people are worried, that with better augs, they'll be in danger".

Grace tilted her head. "Danger? You mean they fear attack, from augmented people?"

Adam nodded. "After Panchea, rumors began spreading that the people there just started randomly killing others, or harming themselves. It wasn't that, I know, I was there. If people would stop jumping on the 'hate all augment' bandwagon for five minutes, they may well find out the truth".

"I saw the latest Picus TV broadcast, Eliza was disputing those claims of violence. Sadly, some seem to have correlated the rise in backstreet augmentation, to gang culture, and it's bloodthirsty streak increasing. It has nothing to do with that, and the rise of backstreet experiments is disturbing, though, we all knew it would happen".

"Eliza and Picus are trying to divert peoples, and the media's attention, away from people like myself, and onto bigger things, like the increase in fighting, between gangs. The warfare stakes have never been so high, and it sickens me".

Grace agreed, and sipped her coffee. She'd brought in her own, premium brand, and could drink this, without wanting to vomit afterwards.

The next part this month's therapy plan worried her slightly, and she reopened Adam's file.

Adam squinted, his emerald and citrine eyes swirled. "What are you looking at?"

Grace  _lied_. "Past cases notes. Why?"

Lying was something she didn't resort too, unless she felt it absolutely necessary.

Adam closed a fist, grounded it, against his knee.

_Lie._

_Lie_

_Really?_

"You're lying".

She couldn't fool him, though, she did not know this. The only people, with the full list of his augmentations were him, Frank, and David.

Grace cocked a brow. "And  _how_  do you know that?"

Adam did not answer. Her vital signs changed. Her pulse quickened, and a swift surge of Beta and Omega meant that she was nervous, and that was growing, with each passing second. She was also scrambling around, to come up with another answer.

_The truth would be nice..._

Grace took a deep breath, and went for it. "Okay, yes, I lied. The next part of our session mentions Miss Reed, and her involvement, in all of this".

That took the wind out of Adam's sails. Now, he was the one, who scrambled around. His mind felt like it had been dropped, and shattered, all around him.

"Megan? She's in jail. That's all you need to know".

The doctor pushed back a little. "So, nothing to so with her project? It says here about a 'Nanite virus 'Chimera' and 'Hyron Project".

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, and growled. "Leave it", he worked his jaw, "Move on".

Grace obliged, not wishing to pester him further. "Okay. How about Sarif?"

Adam made a face. "He's lied to me for years. He pays me, to listen to his bull. Why? What do you need to know about him?"

"What is your relationship with him? Outside of work".

The man sighed. "There isn't one. I turn up, he gives me a mission, or a briefing. Usually Pritchard does that".

"No Father-son mechanic? That can happen, in cases of an older boss, employing, and working closely, with an employee".

His face spoke volumes, but he didn't even wish to speak a paragraph of it. "No".

Grace relented. "How is work? Outside of field work, and missions".

He coughed gruffly. "Quiet. Other than listening to the monotonous click, of Frank, typing away, all day, and the odd workplace, unimportant email, nothing much".

Grace caught herself smiling. "It is like that here too, only the clicking here is from our receptionist, Marina, and her ridiculously long, fake nails".

She huffed out a laugh, Adam perked up a bit too.

"I apologise if this is going too fast, too soon, for you. My usual scheduled plans I had to alter, for your case. Not that I mind, its a change of pace, and I welcome it".

Adam snorted. "What, throw everything at me at once?"

Grace shook her head. "Not all, no".

When she went quiet, the gravity, of what was on that file, on her lap hit him.

It veritably smacked him in his face, sending his thoughts into oblivion.

_Shit. Grace knows all about me._

_That file..._

Grace saw him, eyeing the file. "Ah. This is confidential".

Adam retorted. "It's  _my_ file".

She reasoned. "Yes, but did David let you read your file? The one, in his office?"

When no answer came, she continued. "I thought not".

She placed the file on her desk, and cleared her throat.

"Another part mentions your childhood, and White Helix".

Just when Adam though this  _couldn't_ get any worse. He knew at some point, if he was to let go of what happened, he would have to talk about it. He didn't feel up to it now however.

The agent lent back, against the chair, and crossed his arms. Grace noticed how petulant is body language was.

She also noticed how stiff his posture was. His gaze was far away, as if remembering something, in the past.

"They experimented on me, as a kid. Genetic therapy. I was the only one it worked with, hence why I don't need Neuropozyne. They permanently altered my DNA".

Grace was shocked. He dealt with all that, when he was child? One so young should never be exposed to that sort of thing, how heinous were the team, that did that to him? Some people sickened her, how could they injure, and maim anyone, let alone a child? A vulnerable child?

"You didn't have to tell me that. Thank you Adam. Would you like to carry on?"

He'd started something, but it wasn't a tangent, so he digressed.

"The facility was burned down. But, before the scientists could get out, the Illuminati murdered them. They were listed as 'killed by the fire', to cover it up. I was rescued, by Michelle Walthers, and she gave me, to the Jensen family".

Grace nodded. "Arthur and Margie, your file mentioned them", she looked at her watch, and realised they only had two minutes left, of his appointment, "Okay. I'll write you up another card. If you wish to return, that is".

Adam could have groaned. She was coddling him, he  _despised_  that.

He knew she was trying to be considerate though, passive, though not too much. He appreciated that.

He stood, and the doctor held a card, and pen in her hand.

"Any date in particular, in the next month or so, that is free?"

Adam was back, in Hengsha in two weeks, after receiving disturbing information, about Arie Van Bruggen there.

After that? He'd be back in Detroit.

"The end of November I will be free".

Grace wrote down a date, then looked back up. "Morning? Afternoon, or evening appointment?"

"Afternoon, I can come straight her, after work".

The doctor stood, and handed the man her card.

"The 29th, 5.45pm", she grabbed his grey cup, and sat back down.

"See you then Adam".

* * *

Although he'd only spoken about his past a little, it soured Adam's mood.

Instead of going back to the office, he cut through a few back alley's, and went home.

He needed to think, reevaluate what the hell was going on, in his life.

A message in his inbox, when he got into his apartment turned the sour feeling in his gut, into full blown nausea.

It was from Detective Inspector Riley, the woman overseeing Megan's case.

He stared at the message, and read it several times, as if that would help alleviate his anxiety.

It  _really_   didn't, it simply made it ten times worse.

He gulped.

Megan wanted to see him...


	6. The Call Of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I had a piece gifted to me of Grace and Adam. It is on my DeviantArt, if anyone is interested.

Grace gingerly sipped her coffee. It was boiling. It stung her mouth, though she forced herself to swallow the liquid. Her throat was parched. She often considered bringing in her water jug from home, though, water did not contain caffeine. And, with how tired she had been feeling lately? She sorely needed the coffee 'fix'. She observed the man sitting opposite her after putting the mug down.

Adam looked like he hadn't slept in a few days. When he withdrew his shades, red blotted the whites of his eyes, dotted about. Under them were ever heavier bags, drawing attention to his obvious lack of rest. Grace pondered how to start, or, to be frank, restart their appointments. Starting with a simple 'Hello', then leaving it to him to speak felt too basic to her. She wasn't sure if the man would speak or participate in any way today.

_How are you? How was your day? Your week?_

Too personable? Grace greeted her patients like this not to make them feel uncomfortable, or that she was being overly friendly. She said this because she wanted them to feel she was a confidant, someone they could talk to in confidence. An ally in helping their cause, trying to help them lighten their mental load.

She began with a simple, "Good afternoon Adam".

The man merely nodded. That response elicited a sigh to almost bubble from the doctor's throat, but she suppressed it, faking a yawn. Adam perked up.

"Keeping you up am I? I'll go".

Grace frowned, deep lines marred her forehead. "Adam". She said his name cautiously, but with a little warning in her tone. Adam caught that, without needing his retinal aug.

"What?" He sighed and shifted, but his head in a metal hand.

Grace grabbed a cup and offered it to him. He declined, so she tried another tack.

"When did you last breathe? Take a step back and breathe?"

Adam blinked. "I'm not allowed too".

Grace tried a different tack. "You prefer idioms? I hope you realise I only speak the truth of what I see, what I hear. If you wish someone who lies to to you, I can always refer you. I regret that lies are some of the people in my professions vernacular".

Adam felt anger simmer within him, but swallowed it down. The doctor was merely trying to placate him. But, after what had occurred in the past eight months, he was beginning to question whether  _anyone_  could do that.

An almost impossible task?

_Yes._

And he made it like that. He made it so. He'd screamed at Pritchard when he'd brought him a coffee that had  _too_  much coffee in it. This was when it dawned on him why he needed Grace. Someone needed to get through to the Adam inside him, the man before the insanity, the chaos of the attack.

The man, desperately clinging on to something,  _anything_  tangible.

* * *

Grace raised a brow, taking a sip of her tea and grabbing her tablet with her free hand.

"You wish me to allocate you a number, lecture you and give you drugs? Impersonal, and that isn't my style of"...

Adam cut in. "Help, doc? This isn't helping. It's dredging up all the lies I've been told, what I've been through, what I've seen".

Grace sat up, choosing not to speak. This was a little breakthrough, and she wasn't about to disturb his progress, which began it's steady flow.

Adam put his head in his hands dejectedly. "God", he sighed, "I can't".

"You  _can_ ".

That small sentence, that slight voice willed him on.

"Every time I grasp onto something, am on to a good thing, its taken away, always violently. I am...I don't want to grab onto anything anymore, through...fear that'll be snatched from me".

He looked at his arms, metal overlay, interlacing with yet more metal. "These. I'm torn between thinking they're useful and  _abominations_. Even with the slightest force, I can crush people, destroy things. Hell, even punch through walls".

Grace observed as well as listened intently. "Do you mean to do that? Sounds rather,  _unnecessary_. Were no doors available?" She felt a jolt of panic at this, joking with him. This mixed with wanting to chuckle made her pull a face. She coughed. "I appreciate that you chose to use the door to my office".

Adam, despite felling like his head would explode from a migraine coming on laughed. He actually laughed. For the first time in what felt like an age, genuine sound came from him. Grace smiled. It looked like she hadn't yet pushed him too close to the edge.

Not that she meant to of course. He needed to do that himself.

"Doors are more overt. Less noise".

The doctor nodded. "And walls are more covert. I imagine they make quite the racket when,  _punched_ ".

Adam nodded, though continued to hold his head.

"Right".

"It hurts remembering, right? The most painful physical scars and leave lasting emotional ones that we cannot see, the outside world cannot see. However, I see it was a barrier. The pain prevents you from pushing through the darkness, the sadness. It keeps you in place. You wish for silence and peace, yet only static from an as yet attuned world fills your ears".

The ex-SWAT agent pursed his lips. "Philosophy?"

Grace shrugged, the action surprising Adam.

"I could have gone with poetry, but I figured flowery words and waxing lyrical wasn't apropos".

"But, yes, you're right doc".

She almost tutted.

"Back to formalities I see. Okay, Mr Jensen".

Adam smirked, though not from nasty intent.

"Did you just concede defeat?"

Now Grace smirked.

"Never. That word isn't even in my vocabulary. Honestly". She sighed out a chuckle. "Okay Adam. So, what do you want to get from these appointments?"

He answered immediately. "Closure, if there is such a thing".

Grace nodded. "Don't psychoanalyze me doc. I've had enough of people trying to do that to me. And now, I can do it. I fucking hate it. I can see right through people's lies. You'd think after years of listening to people's bullshit, I'd appreciate being able to see through them like a pane of glass. But, no. I can't stand it. I want to claw at my head, until I reach deep enough to crack open my skull and rip out these fucked up parts inside me".

The doctor swallowed, the conversation having taken a turn for the worse. A twist of her stomach brought on nausea. She'd had some files on Adam's operations, only a few, but it gave her a pretty clear vision of what he'd been through.

And, truth be told? She'd seen some horrors in her life, witnessed untold agony, people's self-destruction from the inside out.

But, with Adam? He had been destroyed from the inside out. Cut up, bloodied, scarred, bruised. He'd returned to work after only six months of his allocated year of leave, and in the reports she had in her files, his colleges had told her that they'd seen nasty bruising on the man's neck. They'd seen him limping, unwilling to retract his shades, as when light permeated the office he shared with Frank, it would hurt them. They were still far too sensitive for him to function like he used too.

Frank had fixed that, finding the retinal augs were slightly out of sync with the predominant one in his brain.

The one he detested most, the C.A.S.I.E aug. He didn't so much as mind the strength increase, if only the change hadn't been more exponential than it needed to be, in his opinion.

She finished her tea and set down the cup.

"Do you see any benefits to them? There must be some. I'm sure Sarif wouldn't have done what he did if he though it would bring you untold misery".

Adam shot her a look. "Do you think he even thought of me during any of his plans? How it would make me feel?" He laughed bitterly. Grace countered.

"I cannot believe he wouldn't have thought that. You may think him some monster, but"...

"No. Oh no.  _I'm_  the monster. He just had a hand and billions of credits in creating me".

"Remember Adam, People believe Frankenstein was the monster. He wasn't. Neither of them were monsters in my opinion. One was a desperate man, vying to go to the outermost reaches of human conscious and existence. The other was a child's mind, in the body of a hulking man. He needed help, not vilifying".

Adam scoffed. "You're comparing me to Frankenstein?"

Grace nodded. "I am. Too bold a statement?"

He didn't have an answer. Only he saw himself as a monster. No one else, well, they hadn't told him to his face if they thought it, had said they disliked him, his new appearance since he returned to Sarif Industries. They all greeted him with smiles, well wishes and condolences for Megan's team being kidnapped, and the loss of their friends and fellow colleges.

None had judged him. Only he had. He was causing his own misery, steering himself into his own downfall. No one had helped him dig the pit he crafted in his mind. The hole was descending, deeper and deeper into the earth, into his mind...

Unless he dropped the metaphorical shovel, he was dooming himself to a pitiful existence, only keeping himself around for other people's benefit.

He didn't want that. He wanted, no, he needed to fight with all that he had left. Get a grip on his remaining sanity and never, under any circumstances let go of it.

He'd surely fall if he did...

* * *

He looked up, putting his arm on the rest of the chair.

"No. Not too bold. It's the truth, I just didn't wish to hear it".

Grace's phone lit up, it vibrated to signal the end of the appointment. She grabbed a card and pen and began filling it out.

"You're doing really well, Adam. It may not feel like it, but a  _genuine_  small leap forward is better than a  _forced_ , large one. Are we okay to continue?"

Adam nodded. "After Christmas or before? I'm rather busy with family engagements before, but afterwards, no".

"After. I suppose I should do something for the holidays".

Grace was careful to broach the subject of family. It was already tentative at best.

"Well, I can't imagine Frank being one for bells, whistles, tinsel and a Santa hat. Though the image is entertaining".

She grinned, and Adam shook his head playfully. She filled in the small boxes and clicked the pen. She grabbed her phone and checked the calendar.

"I am free the 11th, 15th and 22nd of January. Afternoon again Would that be better for your work schedule?"

Adam arrived at work at seven am, so the afternoon would be much easier to make time for.

He nodded. "Okay. Let's say three pm, though that can be changed". She handed him the card. He slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Grace smiled again, once she spotted his mug was half full.

"The coffee really is that bad, huh".

She stifled a laugh.

"I'll remember to warn you next time, Mr Jensen".

The formalities made him shake his head in jest, though he appreciated the lightness of Grace's demeanor. His head throbbed a little less than before now. He needed a smoke, but would try and go a few hours without, see if he could manage it. He didn't even need the vice, and they wouldn't damage his Redbreathers, but he gave into the nicotine pull every time.

He'd considering quitting though wasn't ever serious about it. He hadn't given it the proper thought it needed. He'd give it another go, with intent this time. If he could let go of his demons, he could let go of cigarettes, surely...


	7. Et In Obumbratio

Christmas came and went, with Grace spending it with her family, and Adam spending it alone. Not that he thought wouldn't. Pritchard had scurried off, though recalling Grace's comment about him wearing a Santa hat did amuse the agent for quite some time.

Adam's next appointment loomed. He squinted at that word,  _loomed_. It tasted bitter on his tongue, with a hint of pain, like he'd scalded it.

He  _had_  scolded it. In his daydreaming, he'd taken a sip of red hot coffee, sucking in a breath after doing so, trying to cool the burning. He spluttered, almost dropping the cup if not for augmented fingers, with much more grip than his hands prior ever had tightened on the porcelain. He placed it onto a coaster and sighed, standing up and walking into the bathroom.

* * *

In there, he swilled his mouth out with cold water in the cap of his mouthwash. The slight minty freshness did not meld well with the sweet coffee. He grimaced, swished the odd watery mixture around and spat it out. He did this a few times, eventually, the stinging sensation ceased, much to his relief. The taste of caffeine had all but gone now, and the warm, steaming up no longer appealing as his personal assistant informed him he had an incoming call.

It was from Frank. This surprised him. He accepted the call, sat down and thought about putting feet up, before deciding that'd be too casual.

And he was not casual with Frank. They were made to antagonize one another after all...

* * *

Him laughing caught Frank off guard.

"I take it's been a 'Happy Christmas' for you, Jensen?"

Adam smirked.

"What", he put his hands out at his side, "no one want to pull a cracker with you Frank?"

Frank's face did not move, expression remaining serious.

"Adam. Sarif hasn't told you?"

Adam tilted his head.

"Hmm?...No. Not surprised". He sighed. "What about?"

"Sarif Industries is done Adam. Stocks plummeted after the incident in Panchaea, and they've been tumbling for months. The money's rapidly dwindling, and there's nothing he can do. Investors are pulling out left, right and center too".

Adam's smirk died.

"And if I call him, he'll tell me everything is fine".

Frank nodded. "He's in the red Adam, and there's nothing he can do".

Adam squinted. "Not spending billions of credits on me might have helped some".

His mumble didn't go unnoticed.

"That wouldn't have made a difference. Not a patch on the amount of debt he is in".

"It's that bad?" Adam's brows rose. "Shit.".

"You'll have to start paying for your sessions with Grace from now on".

"Or, I could just  _not_  go anymore".

Frank's face morphed into one that looked suspiciously like a murderous glint to the agent. He put up his hands and backed up.

"I'm kidding. I need to go to the sessions. I know that".

The lines on Frank's forehead ceased their severity.

"Good. I'm glad you know that, Jensen".

Adam's home security system chimed into the mix.

_Adam? You have another incoming call. Shall I add connect it to your current one?_

"Who is it?"

_It is Dr Fielding._

Adam nodded. Grace's face popped up besides Frank's on the wall monitor.

* * *

Grace expected to only see Adam's face. Franks also took her by surprise. She waved a hand.

"Frank, Adam. Pardon me for disturbing".

Adam waved, motioning for her to continue.

She cleared her throat. "I wish I had good news, but, I don't, and I'm not about to sugarcoat it"

Both men wore confused masks.

"Megan knows, Adam. She knows about our appointments. Someone informed her, and that is concerning".

Adam's stomach dropped, his heart lurched. He instantly felt sick. Swallowing on a dry throat, he looked away from the screen, focusing on a spot on the floor. Grace shook her head.

"I'm sorry Adam. I wish I could have called with better news. I was called by a receptionist, private number. She informed me that Miss Reed wishes to see me, before she left".

The brunette's head shot up.

"Leaving?"

Grace nodded. "Yes. I wasn't told where, I doubt I would be if I asked. Though, from her tone, I got the feeling she is leaving it all behind, starting anew. With all that is happening, I think that's a safe bet". She frowned.

Frank chimed in, coughing.

"Perhaps that is for the best".

Adam glared at the tech, effectively shutting him up. Grace spied the look, the altercation and shook her head again.

"I just thought I'd let you know".

Adam groaned. "Sarif Industries going under, Megan's turning tail, and, being unable to have anything secret anymore? Anything else to add to that?"

The doctor paused.

"Wait, what?"

"Never mind that". The agent had heard enough. "When and where are you meeting Megan?"

"You know I can't disclose that. I took an oath, Adam, the Hippocratic oath. Anything that happens where I am to meet her, anything that is said stays within those walls".

Adam saw the interactive newspaper on his coffee table, his mind drawing a blank on the current topic. It was like he was no longer in the room, autopilot mode engaged.

* * *

"The attacks, not just on augmented people too. The whole worlds spending into chaos, and no one can do anything".

Frank blanched. "That is not true Adam".

Grace pointed out. "It's fear Adam. Humans fear things they don't understand. Its in our nature to fight or flee from things we don't comprehend. Unfortunately, instead of trying to learn new things, most people will react badly, and lash out. They are provoking one another, some intentionally, others not". She paused. "The psychologist mask slipped on there. I apologise".

Adam's grip on the glass tightened. It shattered from the force, though, he seemed not to notice. His world fazed out. In the blink of an eye, he found he could not focus. He vaguely registered a voice near him, though, he could not distinguish who said it, or what was said.

* * *

"Adam?" Grace sighed, regression in full bloom before her eyes. "Frank? I think we should go. Trying to get his attention now will only provoke his innermost feelings". Before disconnecting the call, she looked the tech guy in the eye. "Look out for him. Just, don't push  _too_  much. We are on borrowed time here, but sanity doesn't run on a schedule. Take care".

Frank nodded, and the two disconnected the call.

* * *

_A week later_

Grace met Megan, a few days before she was due to see Adam again. How the woman found out about his appointments she couldn't discern, but it concerned her. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She was antsy, somewhere she did not know. Megan had the upper ground here, that much was certain. What concerned her was the level of protection here.

* * *

From the outside, the building looked inconspicuous, innocuous, simply an office block.

However, once inside, there were two check points. One was to check for hidden microphones, any software that could be concealed on her person.

The second wished for the doctor to hand over her phone, and even her bag. It only contained a mirror, lip balm, a pack of tissues and some gum, but, the men asking for her possessions were staunch, stone-faced, all edges. This perturbed her. She would have complied no matter the demeanor of the people around her, but, the shady manner in which they acted had her suppressing the urge to squint.

_Seems like some of you could do with an appointment. I wouldn't like what you had to say though, judging by your demeanor..._

* * *

So, now, she was sat, in an 'office'. This room contained a water cooler and one chair, the one Grace currently sat on. She took a plastic cup and pressed the button on the cooler to dispense some much needed hydration. The building felt warm, stifling almost. Grace muttered under her breath, regretting wearing a thick cotton suit and tights. If it  _didn't_  look unprofessional, she would have undone the top two buttons of her blouse. She eventually decided to take her jacket off, draping it over her arm as she waited.

* * *

A man, nothing remarkable about him or his appearance came to get her after twenty minutes, minutes that felt more like  _hours_  inside the room. It felt oppressive, as if she did not belong  _here_. The look the man gave her confirmed that she  _was_  unwanted here. He knew she was psychoanalyzing him, and he did  _not_  like it.

The doctor observed everything about the man, from the slight limpness in his right leg to the male pattern baldness on the crown of his head. He looked to have been through a lot, likely far more than the human mind could take in a lifetime.

Grace merely nodded and followed the man to a set of stairs. He said nothing as he walked up them.

* * *

The man led the way to a large, all-white room. The large bay windows betrayed an coldness to it. Worry twisted its way around Grace's gut.

"Miss Reed? I am Dr Grace Fielding", she offered a hand, which Megan shook, "It is good to meet you".

"Megan, please".

Megan's lips made a downturn for a split second, before she affixed her mask in place. She was shielding herself from Grace. The doctor recalled Adam did something similar to that behavior, though, she did not bring it up, deeming it not conducive.

"You know I can't discuss patient information, or what was disclosed in sessions". She paused, quite aware of her tone, not wanting it to come across defensive. Adam didn't need her defending him...

"I am aware of your inquiries, however, as a doctor yourself, you must know of our oath. The original, and perhaps Louis Lasagna's version too?"

Megan nodded. "I know Grace. It's just", the breath she had been holding in came out unintentionally a sigh, "I worry about him. He  _died_  in front of me Grace, in front of David, Frank...he died several times". She deliberately used the word 'several', not wanting to name the  _actual_  number. That number made her want to throw up until only bile came out, stinging her trachea.

Grace did not know this. Megan's eagle eyes spotted confusion on the older woman's face.

"He didn't tell you that?" She tched. "Not surprising. Its not exactly something you bring up, whether in casual or clinic surroundings".

Grace nodded. "No, that is something I will attempt to work up too. It is all on his terms Megan. What I can say is that I will not pry, nor will I try to force my way into his mind. That is not proper practise, and would go against both the oath and very human nature. I would like to get to  _know_  Adam, not know him. The latter is a front, the former something that's been kept deep inside himself for a long time. I am unsure as to whether or not he still  _has_  the key, the capacity to open up. I hope I am proven wrong".

Megan chuckled, taking Grace off guard. "Yeah.  _That's_  the Adam I know", she paused, her mask falling again, " _knew._ And", she smiled wryly, "you don't speak like any psychologist I've ever known. What's your specialty?"

"I studied biology, majored in that and clinical psychology. I have been trained in CBT and EMDR therapy techniques too, though I do not see a need for either , in Adam's case. I believe what he needs is an ear, not another voice telling him to 'get better', as if its that simple".

Megan's eyes flashed alarm. Grace shook her head upon realisation.

"Oh! No! I don't mean your voice, or Sarif or Frank's. I refer to the voice in his head, his internal monologue. The one that wants him to get better on his own, not seek help. Every time I see him, I can see a gradual decline, physically more so. He hides behind, literally his, shades? Glasses? Visor? I've no idea what its called, but, you get the picture".

The younger gave a curt nod. "He's a tricky one. When I first met him, he gave off independent, quiet, almost reserved. When I got to know him, I found out he was all of those, but also one of the most loving people I've come across, he just isn't obvious with it. I did love him Grace". She stopped when her heart clenched, a tight knot around it.

"I have no doubt of that. I, too am not one for 'PDA' as people affectionately call it. I call it as it is. 'People doing things you usually would do behind closed doors', as we've all witnessed much more than mere kisses and hand-holding, I'm sure". She laughed. "I sound like a prudish old woman".

Megan joined in the laughter. "PDA wasn't our thing. I don't know if we ever really had a relationship though, besides professional. We still felt the need to hide it from the office, despite not really knowing if we were a 'we'. Actually", she choked, swallowing quickly, "I think he thought we were.  _I_  was the one unsure of it all. I've never been the unsure type, I've always known what I want and I strive for it. But, with people, they are far more complex than a job title, a degree, etc".

"Humans are complex organisms, far more than titles. It isn't easy to control their pathways. I can only guide them, not lead, not have them follow, only suggest if they wish too. I am no shepherd, my patients no flock. They are humans, as am I. That's what links us. The problems that arise are challenges I believe we can overcome. It's when people let the challenge overcome them that they lose the will to fight. Easy to let something overwhelm you when your will to battle has all but one". A glance at the clock told the doctor it had been over an hour since sh and Megan introduced themselves. "I must be going, I have a few home appointments to attend too. Thank you for the opportunity to meet you Megan".

Megan squinted. "See if I really  _was_  a factor in Adam's downfall?"

Grace shook her head. "Not at all. I wished to meet you on friendly terms, as strangers but not so in regards to Adam. He _has_  mentioned you, as I would expect. I suspect he carries feelings he cannot warrant at the moment. I find when you fall in love, after the split, most still carry a piece of the other party with them in their hearts, whether they wish too or not. I wasn't ever here to argue Megan, I came here because I felt meeting you would help clarify some things. It is always good to look at both sides of the coin  _before_  you make assumptions. I find assumptions only cause more issues".

The two women stood, both offering a hand at the same time.

"Quite right". They shook hands. "Thank you for agreeing to come Grace. I understand why you wouldn't as it could be seen as a ' _conflict of interest'_ ".

"It could be by others. Not by  _us_. I wish you look in future endeavors Miss Reed".

Megan grinned. "The formalities are back huh? What did I do?"

She teased, prompting more laughter.

"I only used your term in respect, not to be cold, callous".

"I know, I know", she held up her hands, "I'm teasing. It was nice meeting you, Dr Fielding. I hope you can help Adam, he deserves it", she mumbled the rest, "he needs to know he deserves it. That seeking help is  _okay_ ".

Grace nodded, picking up her purse and heading towards the door.

* * *

The man outside swiped his key card, a beep signalling the door was open. This struck her as odd.

They were  _locked_  in the room? Why? Were they a  _threat_? To _what_?  _Whom_? And why was the building the meeting took place in nondescript?  _Plain_  visage, _plain_  interior, lacking any character...it had a sour feeling ease its way into her gut, followed by a cold shiver when the guard by the exit handed her possessions back to her. She peered at her phone curiously when outside, wondering if something had been done to it, if it had been  _altered_  in any way. Luckily, she did not use it for appointments, nor did she use the email function on it. If whomever arranged the meeting wanted information on her and or any of her patients, they would have to try harder.

The chill did not leave the doctor as she hurried to the metro station. Even the rush of people, the hum of electric engines and hive opf activity around her did not sooth her troubles. She had a feeling something was amiss, and, possibly,  _another_  party was involved.

* * *

She could ask David, though, she  _knew_  he wouldn't tell her much.

Frank wouldn't know, nor Malik.

_Adam?_

_No. Put this behind you Grace. Megan shouldn't have known what she did. If someone is pulling the strings elsewhere, in time, they'll show themselves._

The thought irked her. She, sure as hell was _no_  puppet, neither was Adam. She feared  _someone_  had made Megan one, weaving their way into matters they  _really_  shouldn't...

* * *

Grace's train arrived, which she stepped onto with trepidation. Behind the scenes lay more, that much she knew.

Or, at least, she _thought_  she knew...


	8. In The Space Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and support. It means a lot to know people enjoy my work.

_A wondrous form lay before him, lightly tanned skin bathed in the soft glow of sunrise, bun ruffled from sleep and a hand, resting on it. Megan was beautiful, Adam could never deny that. He contemplated the situation, pondering a split second._

_Were they a **they**? An ' **us** '? A fling?_

_Whatever it was, the woman was fast becoming his favourite vice, bottles of bourbon and cigarettes packs long discarded on the floor._

_Megan's chest moving up and down slowly took his attention next, off the little errant though earlier. He wanted to kiss her, let his being be one with hers. Not only physically but mentally. Wrap his loving arms around her, shield her from what he knew was in the world. She must have had the same train of thought as she moved up, heart shaped lips meeting slightly thinner._

_She was warm, not just from the recent humid weather but flushed with love._

_Lust? He saw something flicker, aglow in her eyes. It was correct, his observation. Megan's other hand wove its way onto his chest, caressing skin, tickling it, slight hairs tickling her fingertips. Vivid, bright, inquisitive blue grey eyes looked into hers, cogs whirring away in the man's brain, wondering just where the situation would take them. In her flight of fancy, she, too wondered. She saw love in those eyes. Did he see that in hers? She did not currently feel that. She lusted for him, lower half of her body trembling slightly. Adam knew that, right?_

_He **knew** , right?..._

* * *

"There are varying forms of therapy we could attempt at this point. EMDR, CBT..."

Adam interrupted via his bushy brows, steadily moving upwards, forehead crinkling slightly.

"We?"

Grace looked confused at his reply.

"Yes.  ** _We_**. This goes both ways Adam. You aren't here to be lectured. You are here because you wish to be, and sought help. I am here because I wish to be, and assist in giving that help. Your actions will also help, or", she paused, "hinder you, hence the several forms of therapy I can suggest. It is up to you whether we even bother with them. Talking can help a great deal too".

Adam could have smacked his head, his misunderstanding a testament to a haze over his mind.

Not from alcohol or anything illegal, but from pain. His head throbbed. It had since he spoke with Megan. It felt as if he were wading through sludge, swimming, frantically waving his arms, thrashing his legs around, but not getting anywhere. It'd hurt to breathe too, if he had 'human' lungs.

Them being coated in tar, poisoning his airways wouldn't help things either...

* * *

He'd had a dream the night before going to meet with Megan. It had been a facade, he knew, but it felt  ** _real_**.

Her skin looked and felt  ** _real_** , the delicate light bathing it had him believing she was there,  _in_  his apartment.

In his  _bedroom_ ,  _next_  to him, breathing in the same slightly stale air, musty from old volumes the two had bought over the years.

God, he  _loved_  her, not only missing the physical, but having someone understand him,  _listen_  to him,  _ **help**  him_ fight his demons.

Grace was trying, but, she  _wasn't_  Megan...

* * *

Grace almost commented on the man's silence, but took a guess it was from trepidation. Instead of questioning it, she merely observed.

"Tell me about when you met with Megan".

That took her by surprise. Slight alarm dressed the reaction.

"I  _can't_  do that Adam. I understand you too, met with Miss Reed".

Green eyes focused on brown intently.

"Getting defensive? Must be  _serious_ ".

Grace refrained from coughing, to move from the topic.

"I know you're displeased. Doesn't mean I'll leave the subject alone".

"Adam", Grace picked up her mug, sipping from it, savouring sweet caramel, and the ability the object had of hiding her facial expression.

Adam called her out on it, getting defensive, huffing frustration.

"Doc, I know you talked about me. I know she spoke about me. You can cover your face all you want", he bitterly tapped a temple, "C.A.S.I.E never lies".

The doctor raised a brow.

"Care to elaborate on Miss Reed?"

"Yeah, she went from my  _safety net_ , to being a  _crutch_  that I can't let go of, or I'll hit the deck".

Grace felt  _hope_  ping in her mind.

"She forcibly removed the net from under you?"

Adam nodded. "She, I thought for a long time that she _loved_  me. That she  ** _returned_**  my affection. I was wrong. The pain of that, plus learning to live my augs threw me. I couldn't cope".

"You loved her?"

Adam's apple bobbed. "Yes. Strong word, I know. I never got to say that word, not to my parents, my foster family. The Jensen's are amazing. Far from perfect, but they brought me up well, I'd like to think".

Grace noted the use of third person. He was a Jensen, yet referred to his family as if he were a  _spectator_  in the room.

* * *

She nodded, not giving any indication what the nod was for.

"It is a strong word. I have read the file on your birth parents. I don't know what to say, apologetic words won't change anything, cannot change the past". She shook her head. "That sounded harsher than I intended".

Adam saw the irony, bitter on his tongue.

"You're ' _sorry_ ', right? Fuck, that should be my middle name, the amount of times I hear it. Sarif? ' ** _I'm sorry, son_** '. Megan? ' ** _Adam, I'm...'_** ", he trailed off, "she never could look at me after", he gestured to his form, "the _changes_. Can't blame her. My head span when I first witnessed the transformation. Its so,  _ **drastic**_ , cold, harsh. A sight for very sore, bloodshot,  _tired_ , hazy eyes".

Sorrow filled Grace. She blinked, looking away. Adam's eyes were just as he had described. His head in a metal hand, she looked at the limb instead of his face.

* * *

She wasn't an expert on augmentation, but could see it was a very expensive model, likely the latest. Metal linking, interlaced with what appeared to be carbon fibre, so able to flex fingers, like a human hand.

_Like his past..._

* * *

"The Jensen's did an excellent job. They raised a  _brave_ ,  _intelligent_  man, one who is  _willing_  to lift the mask he wears for the outside world when he is able. One,  _able_  to voice his mind, his true thoughts. An honest, vibrant, if not slightly  _quiet_  man. That's all  ** _okay_** ,  _Adam_ ". Then she chose to look in his eyes, as he did hers. She saw belief there.

She continued. "Your outer appearance means little to the world. What matters is internal. Not many will comment on your outside, but, what's on the inside? That will remain. What you did, what you said, what you continue to say and do in your life. I personally do not find you repulsive. I find you, different. Not an anomaly, Adam". She purposefully used his name here. " _Never_  an anomaly".

Adam's emerald's eyes glistened.

"I'm not the only one who sees me as a ' _freak'_ ".

Grace disagreed. " _Who_  else does? Has anyone said this?"

The agent scoffed. "The  ** _mirror_**  does".

"Adam. The mirror is not a person. It can lie, yes, but it does not have a  _voice_ , an opinion". Curiosity gnawed. "What does it tell you?"

Adam hated how  _pitiful_  he sounded.

"It tells me I'm a  _machine_ , a robot, not a human. Not  _worthy_  of being called one, treated as one".

Grace knowingly smiled, keeping it small.

"Does a machine _feel_? Have a beating heart? Is it  _warm_? Does  _life_  flow through its veins?  _Can it cry_?"

Adam squinted, at first thinking the doctor was calling him 'stupid'. How could he possibly  _not_  know the answer to any of her questions?

"Of course  _not_ ".

The smile grew on the woman's face as she witnessed progress.

" _Exactly_. Adam", she lent forward, "you are by no means a ' _robot_ ', far from a ' _machine_ '. Nothing to be  _feared_ , vilified. The _only_  one that tells you that is you. Your reflection is  _you_ , the  _you_  you are now. The body may have changed, but the man  _inside_  of it hasn't".

* * *

Grace's timer let out an alarm, pulling the pair from reflection.

"Okay?"

Adam wasn't quite sure.

"Uh", he grunted, "Yeah?"

Grace moved back, her smile becoming a grin. This took Adam by surprise, in turn, helping his guard ease up.

"You  _can_  be honest with me. If I have said anything out of turn, let me know. We should aim to be on the same page".

"Not ' _must_ '? Heard that one", he sneered, looking away, "many goddamn times".

The doctor shook her head.

"I don't deal in absolutes. Those and fanciful predictions are for, quote on quote, 'psychic mediums'. The fact that anyone believes in them is both hilarious and rather sad". Her smile petered off. "Anyway", Adam earned a sincere look, " _thank you_  for telling me that".

Adam squinted, suspicion clear as his retinal augs gave a flash of Omega.

"Thank you? For what? Getting that out of me? Isn't it your  _job_  to do that?"

"I didn't get it out of you, Adam. That's the point.  _You_  let it out of you. You could have sat here the entire hour, doing nothing but stare at the hairline crack in the wall  _behind_  me. You could have walked out. I  _wouldn't_  have stopped you, or reported it to Sarif".

Adam rolled his eyes, standing, straightening his jacket.

"Of course he'd want  _anything_  and  _everything_  reported back to him". He sighed, slicking a hand through his hair. "Is nothing  _sacred_  anymore?"

Grace placed her tablet down, grabbing a pen and card in its stead.

"No, but the Sacred Feminine is a rather interesting concept. About creation, the ways in which some believe a higher power works. Now, I do not believe, but, in regards to your 'creation', it could hold some weight". She took off the pen cap. "Now that Sarif Industries looks to be folding, I am not entirely sure if we can continue our sessions for much longer".

Adam shrugged, Grace shaking her head at that.

"Progress  _indeed_ ". She laughed. Adam, despite himself laughed too. "Is next week okay? Same time?" She looked at her calendar.

"I'm not sure. Got a lot to sort through at work, and I don't know where I'll work next, unless I freelance".

Grace wrote down the time and date, and put question marks after both. She signed it and handed it to Adam, who chuckled upon seeing the additions.

"A psych, with a  _sense of humor_. Sarif did alright picking you."

Grace smirked.

"Just  _alright_?"

Adam returned the smirk, leaving the office.

* * *

Grace merely sat down, patted herself of the back and laughed.

She needed coffee, but that could wait.

* * *

_Leaving the lab, entering the elevator, Adam felt happy alongside Megan. She'd be great at the presentation, he had a lot of faith in her._

_Could he steal a kiss before they got to the boardroom? Before Sarif's and many stone faced men in suits eyes were upon her, expectantly?_

_He went to, heart swelling with pride. Megan wasn't in the mood, butterflies flapping their wings hurriedly, making her nervous, twitchy. The man decided to go with a softer approach. His hand casually moved towards hers. The doctor saw it, took it, his warmth radiating, calming her, settling the twitch. She squeezed his hand, smiling warmly._

_The ping of the elevator barely noticed in the sweet moment, Frank's form stepping inside broke through the space, turning the taste slightly caustic, the tech's coldness the cause._

* * *

_Adam vaguely heard, shouting? Some kind of noises coming from far east of where he, David and Megan were. He ignored it, all phasing out as he looked at Megan. Entirely focused on her, he smiled, positive, giving her luck. Megan didn't return it. In fact, she moved past him, almost through him, as if his form were not there. This confused the agent, wondering what triggered her sudden mood swing. The corners of his mouth down-turned as negativity filled his mind._

_Did she **not**  love him?_

_Was he wrong?_

_Had he gotten the signals completely wrong? Wires crossed?_

_Those mere thoughts made him gulp sourness, coughing, spluttering as a result._

* * *

_As men swarmed the building, Adam shouted for Megan to get down as he stepped in front of her, shielding her. He wanted to be her protector, despite the man knowing she could handle herself._

_He did not want her facing a barrage of bullets. He would take those if it meant she escaped alive._

_He ducked down for a second, wanting nothing more than to cuddle the scientist, let her know he was thinking of her, and only her right this moment._

_Megan shrunk back, eyes suspicious, brows raised. She didn't understand why Adam was being clingy. She felt scared, though did not need a 'Knight in Shining Armour'. She pulled back, shaking her head._

_Realisation hit Adam like a truck, far exceeding the speed limits._

_She didn't love him._

_She **didn't**  love him..._

* * *

_He felt sick, stomach heaving, bile flying up his throat. He all but stuck his head over a waste paper bin when them first bullet hit him, square in the arm._

_The sick feeling intensified, vision swimming, tears formed as he phased out, body no longer registering what was happened around him._

* * *

_"Ms Reed? Get up. I know you're in here. Your 'guard dog' is done for"._

_Jaron Namir's voice spat, the mercenary's eyes scanning the messy office. He frowned as they saw shattered glass all around. He stepped over as much as he could._

_Megan popped her head up, hearing bullets leaving barrels, smelling sulphur. Bullets flew at break neck speed into Adam, low groans the only thing letting her know he was alive._

_"Ms Reed, get the fuck up, or I'll end him"._

_Megan stood up, hands up._

_"Don't! Please!"_

_Namir held a gun above Adam's head, yanking it up with the other hand._

_"Get your research and your skinny ass over here, or he will die. I'll make sure to splatter his brains all over you too"._

_Megan retched, her lunch didn't wish to stay in her stomach much longer._

_"Please! Namir!"_

_Adam's eyes opened, squinting with pain and the bright lights of the room._

_"Megan? You know him?"_

_He tried to look at the man, his head pulled violently away. Whiplash tore through him. He growled loudly._

_Megan scrambled around, looking for her file. Her heart rose into her throat, her gaze falling upon it in the hands of Vincent Veristas, a friend of David. He'd been shot between the eyes, steady stream of blood trickling down from the bullet hole. She grimaced, stuck out her hand, and pried it from the man's grasp._

_She thrust the horrid file at the merc. Jaron took it, opened it, skimmed darkened eyes over it, closing it quickly._

_He dropped Adam's head, sending him hurtling towards the floor. Megan stepped forward, keeping steps short, movements discreet. Namir grabbed her arm, shooting Adam in the chest, both actions casual, as if they were nothing..._

* * *

_The scientist_ _cried out, salt stung her eyes. Adam was dying before her eyes. By Jesus, she couldn't do this anymore. She had to tell him what she'd found, what she'd done. She tried to, blurting out her ex's name, before her mouth was covered, freezing metal engulfing her. She was hauled up, and carried out of the office._

_Out of the building that was her second home. Away from one of the only men who got to her..._

* * *

_Adam's world whirled, stomach churned, entire body aching. Any attempt to move, an effort to do something caused surges of pain, blinding, iron tinged pain to bite it's sharp teeth into him. Blackness threatened every second of his remaining life to take him, engulf him, wrap him in its embrace._

_Half of him wished for it all to end. The agony would cease, and, sure, his life would be over, but he'd had a bloody good go at it. He'd had a fairly decent innings..._

_The other half wanted to get up, somehow find energy to pull himself up, look up at the office lights, and refuse to glare into the pitch blackness that was death._

_The former won, inevitable, he knew. He coughed, registering nothing, once muffled sounds now dead to his ears, his senses no longer functioning. His eyes stopped responding to his wanting thoughts to see. They did not wish to view any more._

_Neither did **he**. Neither  **did**  he._

* * *

Adam arrived home, all but storming through his front door. Tears blurred his vision temporarily as he curled up into a ball on the couch. He'd not orientated himself properly, falling onto the carpet soon after dropping. He clutched at the soft faux fur, trying to concentrate on the feeling between his fingers. He vaguely felt them, smooth, downy. He couldn't  _really_  feel them, not like he used to be able to. This stung him, throwing his body into convulsive sobs.

Unable to control them, he let them take him, mind succumbing to what he'd carefully hidden for a long time, the cement between bricks of his walls crumbling.

The cement was his  _resolve_ , the one and only  _true_  weapon he had against the torment that was his life...


	9. Trials And Tribulations

Steam billowed from the coffee pot as Grace buttered some toast. Putting away the butter, she grabbed the strawberry preserve, lightly smearing that on top of the butter. The toast was pleasantly warm as she bit into it, butter melting, savoury mixing with sweet.

Coffee was poured next, creamer added before plate, mug and the women made their way to the couch.

* * *

It had been a month since the doctor had heard anything from Adam, though, she wasn't surprised. The man was not one for 'friendly check up' calls or emails. He was quiet, which she respected. It frustrated her a tad, however, after reading through what had occurred in his past, she thoroughly understood the silence.

* * *

So, when she got a knock on her apartment door (she hadn't been expecting anyone or anything) surprise wandered, languidly dragging itself through her mind.

* * *

She opened the door, eyebrow raising seeing the person on the other side.

"Adam?" She looked around. "How do you know where I live?"

She could have smacked her forehead.

_Cyber security...hacking? He must have hacked Frank or David's computer._

Adam blurted it out, answer rushed.

"I'm leaving, I have a new job".

"You're  _leaving_?"

Adam coughed. "Yeah, to Prague, with Interpol".

A perplexed Grace frowned.

"I wouldn't recommend that". She turned. "Come in, sensitive issues are not to be discussed in doorways".

Adam nodded, the doctor noting a gulp, not mentioning it.

* * *

Adam had just turned up to her apartment out of the blue. This confused her, and slightly worried her.

_How_  did he know where she lived?

How did he know she would _be_  there?

She closed the door behind him, anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

Something was off. This wasn't the practise, however, she would get to the crux of it.

* * *

"I take it this is a flying visit?"

Adam stood by the kitchen counter, leaning on it awkwardly. Grace felt a twitch of her upper lip. He looked as if he were trying to be casual.

"Figured I ought to tell you face to face. Not via email"

Grace tilted her head. "Email?" She raised a brow. "How many have my email?" She sighed. "Interpol, huh. From cyber security to world security. That's quite the leap".

"Its a job. I'll take it. I have combat training. I can handle it, even if I'm not like their other agents".

Grace fought the urge to sigh again.

"I've met many people in my career Adam. You are among the  _most_  human. I mean that, sincerely".

Adam snorted. Grace's head turned to him. The two shared an odd look.

"We may not be in the clinic, Adam, but that doesn't mean I'm about to not care about your situation. I don't think this is good for you, however", she held up both hands, "you need to move on, do what you must".

The doctor cocked her head. She looked at a small pink ball on the floor. She kicked it, prompting scuffling feet on the tile. Little claws tapped as a small dog came running out of a different room.

Adam saw the dog, smiling immediately.

* * *

"Already boiled the kettle". Grace walked into the kitchen, looking back at the man. "Always prepared, British requirement". She saw the smile, feeling a smile bloom on her face. She looked at her dog, frantically wagging his tail, jumping up happily, attempting to have his head against the men's hand.

"That's Freud".

"Freud?" The smile became a grin. Strangely, a sense of discomfort bubbled in his gut, so he looked away, keeping the silly grin. "Really?"

Grace's smile widened. She chuckled. "Yes, being a psychologist and all". She kept laughing, covering her mouth. "It was the moustache really".

Adam sat down. "I had a dog, Kubrick. He was put down quite a while back". That was where the discomfort stemmed from, his memory of his scruffy best friend.

Grace took a mug from the drainer.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Dogs are  _far_  more than 'pets'. They mean much more than many realise. Kubrick was a true artist".

Freud's little legs meant he couldn't quite get onto the couch cushion next to Adam. He snorted, uneasy feeling fading.

The grey ball of fluff heaved himself up, sitting, giving the agent 'puppy eyes'. Adam sat back, patting his lap. An excited dog hopped onto his lap, nuzzling his hand happily.

Grace looked at the scene, hope emerging, its light flickering back to life in front of her.

* * *

"Well, there's a complement". She smiled, knowingly. "He doesn't just do that with anyone". She held up the mug. "Got to have coffee. You're sat down, with a dog on your lap, and he's not about to let you go after five minutes". The doctor chuckled. "Strong, one sugar, right?"

Adam, preoccupied with Freud ignored retinal prompts, audio in his direction. He looked up, realising he could ignore them felt  _good_. It felt  _damn_   _good_.

He nodded, Grace got out a coffee jar, leaving Adam to (as gently as he could) tickle Freud's tubby pink belly.

* * *

Adam looked around, a glint of gold catching him. A degree in clinical psychology, from Harvard, no less. Grace sat down, placing a tea tray down carefully before settling. She saw the agent's gaze, following it.

"Harvard alumni. Five years, four observing in multiple clinics, and six in Oak Wood. Covered a lot there, eleven variants and sub-variants of clinical psychology".

Adam wished for her to continue. She was, however, in her element, her world, her home. She was herself here, not her business self.

Grace got the silent message. "Decided I wanted to be a psychologist at sixteen, got into Harvard after attending Oxford at seventeen. Came to Boston at eighteen after my Father moved out here and took me with him. I had no real say in the matter. He earned what kept us afloat, he worked himself to the bone to get me into both institutions. He did construction, had contracts all over Massachusetts. We came here after my Mother died when I was nine. I didn't understand what was wrong with her for quite some time". She halted. "You don't need to hear about that".

Adam motioned for her to go on. Grace sipped some tea, coughing slightly before continuing.

* * *

"She developed fibroids from an early age. She was given Lupron, then Synarel. They always worked to shrink them. Then, at twenty-nine, she devolved another, larger fibroid. Doctors though with the same prescription, they would get the same results. An MRI scan revealed this one had grown, almost covering an ovary. It was cancerous and multiplying quickly. There wasn't anything they could do. I, as a child merely observed my Father. I feel terrible in saying this, but I wasn't interested in what was going on. All I knew was that people went into hospital sick, and came out well. Only, Mum didn't come out this time".

She bit back a grimace, pointing towards a photo of a thin man, an arm around a smaller, younger Grace, big grin on his moustached face. Grace had roundness of his cheeks and a similar shade of brown hair.

"Gregory Heart-Fielding. And, there?" She pointed next to that, a larger picture, frame ornate, a few pearls accenting it. That showed a kind, homely looking woman, cropped blond hair, half rimmed glasses perched upon a button nose. Grace had her hazel eyes. "Cecelia Drummond-Fielding. She was a data analyst". She laughed quietly. "That was taken before she had me. Twelve and a half hours in labour, she liked to remind me when I stressed her. I was born 7th August, 1991".

Adam swallowed caffeine, hints of toffee sliding down this throat. It tasted, good. Something other than energy drinks, he found he enjoyed the beverage, and the small gesture from Grace.

* * *

"She sounded like a wise woman".

Grace nodded. "Very. Sharp, on the ball. Her head was a chaotic mess of information that she somehow could pluck out what she needed when she needed it. Annoying, as she often proved Dad and I wrong, but useful, as", she snorted, "she often proved both of us wrong. Brain a little like Frank's, only..."

Adam feigned spitting out coffee, eyeing her warily.

"Only, with more ' _tact_ ', right?" He mumbled the rest for effect. "Almost want to take back the 'wise' now...".

Grace laughed. The agent noted the use of 'Dad' and 'Mom', more personal than 'Father' and 'Mother'. Also, the snort made him smile inside. No longer needing to keep up professional pretence, Grace was about to open up more.

"Anyway, back to your departure. Do you wish to continue your sessions? Prague, right?"

Adam nodded twice.

"Sarif already found me a psychologist. A 'Delara Auzenne', she works for Task Force 29".

Grace nodded. "Excellent". A wide smile formed as she drained her coffee, grimacing slightly at its cold surprise. Adam found that adorable, shaking his head at the word. He looked down into wide black eyes, Freud was curled up, hot little body warming his lap. The Miniature Schnauzer looked at him innocently.

"Adam?" Grace enquired. Green eyes met hazel, an apologetic head shake followed. "Do have David email me Ms Auzenne's details, so I can forward your files you her. Continue where we left off". She stood, checking Adam's mug. A few dregs remained. "Are you finished with that?" Adam glanced into the mug, molten brown liquid still, much like his demeanour. He realised he had only moved his head, his body was as still as a statue. That must have looked strange to the doctor, a puzzled brow and crinkled forehead were what he saw.

"Sure", he said it again, correcting it, confirming it, "sure. I'll let him know".

Grace took his mug, placing it onto the tray.

"Or you could hack his laptop again, acquire her details and send them to me, since you already know my email".

The man's eyes widened, his body let out a long huff. Did Grace, Dr Grace just call his bluff? Half of him wanted to smirk.

The other half wanted to bolt, that part also fused into him after the operation. He hated that, the want to flee. He wasn't built for that. Even before the completely unnecessary augments replaced most of his extremities and organs, in turn, making him powerful (Sarif didn't know Adam had read he only needed an arm amputating, not ALL of his limbs), he was never one to flee.

Fight or flight? He'd chose fight. Call him stubborn, but, for all he had lost, Adam found he needed to be stubborn. It was the only way he had a semblance of normality. If he didn't fight, he wouldn't have anything to hold on too.

* * *

Water trickled into the sink, washing away the coffee which swirled around and around towards the plughole.

"Grace?"

Grace rinsed her mug, popping her head around the corner pillar.

"Hm?"

Adam carefully manoeuvred himself up, placing the ball of fluff where he had sat. A whine left Freud's mouth. Adam turned, stroking behind the dog's ears in apology for taking away his warmth.

"I should be going".

Grace walked towards him.

"Okay. Thank you for coming here. It can be daunting being in a new environment".

Adam looked back. "Freud helped. He takes after his namesake".

Grace tilted her head. "What, tubby, greedy and fluffy? Pretty sure Sigmund  _didn't_  leave grey fluff everywhere he went..."

Adam laughed. "Take care, Adam. Good luck with your new job, whatever it may be. If it's hacking, at least I know you are  _fairly_  proficient at that".

Adam shook his head playfully. Grace offered a hand, which he respectfully shook, before leaving the apartment and chubby canine behind.

* * *

He had initially been reluctant to come to Grace's apartment, wondering if, on home ground, Grace would have the upper hand on him. The step above him.

In the clinic, they were on the same step. Or so Adam  _wished_  to believe. He felt like a yoyo being played with by a hapless child, carelessly thrown down, only to come zipping back up again quickly. It made him feel disorientated when he really needed to  _orientate_  himself.

And, now, he had a  _new_  psychologist. He knew nothing of Delara, nor her practises.

He could only  _hope (_ the word lingered in his mind as he walked to the elevator) that she was similar to Grace.

Grace  _listened_ ,  _didn't_  pry, and actually seemed to give a  _damn_  about him. If Delara were like Grace, Adam wouldn't have many qualms in speaking with her.


	10. In Name And Name Only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to a dear friend and reader, who recently began reading this, has drawn art for it, given me great feedback and genuinely appreciates and loves all the facets of the DE universe and its characters. Here's to you, Justina! :)

"Evening Frank. You don't call without cause. Should I be worried?"

Grace teased. Frank did not appreciate that, eyes glaring, face impassive stone. The doctor held up her hands.

"That'll be a yes". She sighed, sitting down in front of the screen. "Adam?"

Frank nodded. "Delara isn't ' _working out_ ' for Adam. Stubborn, bull-headed, as usual".

Grace shook her head.

"I don't believe so". She sighed, regression again in bloom. "This is  _another_  red flag".

"'Red flag?'"

She recounted, mentally counting, listing off issues.

"The first? I got in touch with her, sending her Adam's files and asking for her input. I suggested if we worked together, it would be beneficial in terms of Adam's recovery. Delara  _never_  returned any of my emails".

The head of security blinked. "Go on".

Grace drummed her fingers on her interactive pad, finding and sending an email to Frank.

"The second?  _This_. Its from Adam, but he felt the need to encrypt it. He also sent it to my  _personal_  email. He _shouldn't_  know that".

The black haired man rolled his eyes, deep crevasses in his head.

"Sarif's laptop was the last to be erased and shut down. He'll have used that to _get_  your email".

Grace watched, fascination peaked watching long, slim fingers typing away quickly.

* * *

She barely finished putting down the pad before she received the same email she had sent, only, she could read it now.

"See?  _Stubborn_ ".

Grace read it. She read it slowly. It consisted of word fuel, it gave life to worry within her.

* * *

_Delara isn't who she says she is. Won't let me find out anything about her. She's hiding something, and I doubt its anything good._

_I have contacted Sarif, and you._

**_Adam._ **

* * *

"He sent that over a week ago. I haven't heard anything from David, as of yet".

Frank looked concerned, it flashed in tired eyes.

"No one has. He has gone radio silent".

"Damn. I checked stocks. He's tanked, Sarif Industries is all but done. I can understand why he would want to get away from the press. Media attention is on him, many eyes, including Picus wanting a look. They are like vultures, they cannot leave a suffering man".

Frank's little smirk made her squint.

"Neither can  _you_ ".

The squint was replaced with a head shake, eyes determined, fixed upon the tech.

"No, I can't. The world's eyes wish to be upon Adam too. Wouldn't be surprised if they attempt to find  _you_  too".

Frank let out a contented huff, linking his fingers.

"Never. I wouldn't let myself be found, Grace. You should  _know_  that".

Grace's gaze went back to her pad.

"Oh, I do", she smirked, attempting to hide it behind a hand, "'NuclearSnke' huh?" She lent forward. "Left out the a there,  _Francis_ ".

The groan he let out threatened to have the doctor double over on the couch.

"I'll find Adam". He dropped her attempt to change the subject faster than she could blink. "He isn't as hard to track as he thinks. Neural implant and L.I.M.B clinic records will do it".

Grace's laughter ceased. "Just because he has those, that does not mean you can track him anywhere. Can't he have  _some_  sort of privacy? After what he has been through, he should be allowed it. I understand that you care, Frank, and don't give me any of  _that_. Don't insult me by telling me you 'hate him'. You bloody well  _don't_ ". She grabbed the pad. "Can I email David without it being traced?"

Frank, taken aback by her outburst nodded, deciding not to hide his inner stress. It wormed its way onto his face, crinkling skin around his mouth and eyes.

"I can encrypt it".

Grace typed up a quick note to Sarif. She sent it to the tech.

"Why have you sent this to me?"

"I don't have David's email. His old one no longer exists. I'm willing to bet that you  _do_. I won't ask you for it".

Black hair flopped over blue eyes, falling haphazardly from his hair tie.

" _You just did_ ".

"Oh yes.  _I just did_ ". A wide, cheeky smile took her.

Frank rolled his eyes.

"I didn't know  _sarcasm_  was in your vernacular".

She retorted. "I didn't know vernacular was in your  _vernacular_ ".

Frank hummed. "' _Mercenary status_?'" He paused. "I thought Adam was joking. His past is coming back to haunt him".

That killed the doctor's good mood. Brows knitted.

"Adam is a mercenary? Well, he  _neglected_  to tell me that".

Black brows raised.

"Neglected to tell you that?  _When_?"

"A month ago. He visited me, telling me he was going to Prague with Interpol". She smirked behind her mug. "We spoke about you".

Frank rolled his eyes, muttering.

"No wonder I felt my ears burning".

Grace chuckled, placing the mug on its coaster.

"No, Frank. That'll be the heating. Adam informed me you have it on a ridiculous setting. Trying to warm your cold heart, fingers and toes?"

She stretched. "Anyway, it's eleven pm. I have been awake since five in the morning and I am struggling to keep my eyes open". She stretched her legs and arms. "No offence. It isn't you, it really  _is_ me".

Frank drinking from a large glass took her eyes.

"What on earth is  _that_? Its neon green? Looks extremely terrible for your teeth and insides. Energy drink perchance?"

She coughed when he ignored her.

"Hey,  _Wendell_ , eyes up".

Frank glared, eyes fierce.

"Never call me that again".

Grace shrugged. "See? We  _can_  get along. Not that hard to look at, am I?" She squinted. "Don't answer that. Did you eat yet?"

Another eye roll. She barely held back sputtering laughter, believing she heard the tech muttering obscenities under his breath.

"Mother? You came back? How honoured am I?" He deadpanned. " _Not one iota_ ".

The doctor felt pangs of guilt creep into her veins, blood feeling cold.

"Sorry". She sympathised. "Really", Frank chose to look up, she chose to give him a reassuring smile, " _I'm sorry_. I worry is all. Not trying to parent you, I simply don't want you dying in your computer chair, hands rigor mortis on the keys, eyes glazed from long periods of time staring at screens. I know", she waved him off, "I'm being  _silly_. I really ought to be going to bed. Take care, Frank".

She went to hang up, receiving a quiet reply as she went to press 'end call'.

"I believe my adenosine triphosphate levels are of  _sufficient_  quality. Goodnight Grace".

A soft smile curled her mouth as she walked into her bathroom to get ready for bed.

* * *

_Two months ago_

_Czech Republic, near Prague_

_19:17 pm_

Clammy palms, fingers losing grip.

_19:18 pm_

Stomach lurching, bile roiling.

_19:20 pm_

He was about to throw up...

Adam shot up, almost sprinting into the train's toilet.

* * *

His hands shook, vision blurry, the mint green walls hazy all around him. Crumpling down as if he were made of paper, he braced himself on the floor, uncaring of the state of it. Shooting pains shot through his, arms? They didn't have pain receptors any more..

He was  _warned_  of this by Dr Marcovic, of  _'phantom limb pain'_ , the name twisting his face with amusement. A floating limb causing pain? He hid a chuckle. Vera wasn't so amused. She told him he had no sign of implant rejection, and did not require Neuropozene. She told him what he  _needed_  to know, also letting slip that Saris had payed big bucks to pay for the latest Praxis kits,  _if he wanted them_.

The last sentence made him squint, and it  _wasn't_  due to the lights in the examination room.

He didn't ask for  _any_  of these things inside him. He didn't get a choice, saving his life ended up a  _massacre_.

* * *

_More pain jolted him, causing a flashback. The level of agony brought him right back to being on the operating table, burning flesh filling his nostrils, limbs shaking upon what sounded like something sharp piercing them. They went through bone._

_Saws? What the fuck?_

_He howled, tendons ripping, warm blood quickly freezing as it existed his veins._

_Blacking out, he awoke to a sight he wished he could forget._

* * *

_Gauze, cotton balls, splattered red, drips, needles buried in his neck and chest, defibrillator pads stuck to his chest, just in case he died. He couldn't think straight, brain scattered, puzzle pieces thrown about by errant, determined surgeons._

_Only, Adam wanted the pieces back, then, he wished to die. Waves of red hot pain seared, and he needed to double over, roll onto his side, the fetal position and vomit until only bile came out._

_He did vomit, but couldn't get it out. Unable to move, he vaguely heard cursing as a woman in scrubs scurried over, rolling him onto his side, his head above a grey bowl. The familiar taste of Magic Gnome and milk filled his throat, coming out of his nose too, the force starting a nosebleed. The woman swore again, grabbing more gauze, holding it under his nose, dabbing gently, pinching the bridge with her other hand._

_Adam stared at her, the only thing he gave her a look of dejection, defeat. The look made her feel sick herself. She had done what she was payed to do, despite how inhuman it was._

_Despite how morally despicable it was. She was payed for this, her job was to save people's life, no matter what._

_What was a few million credits after creating a weapon?_

_Sarif would be pleased with the result, after the room and Adam's stable but prone form were cleaned up._

_The cleanup crew would be busy this day..._

* * *

Adam's head felt heavy, sweat beaded, cold, the nausea intensifying. He swore, unable to throw up. He could shove a finger in there, quickly recalling the floor and its abject appearance.

_On the fucking floor of a fucking train, after fucking Dubai..._

**_Desert Jewel Resort_** , _bodies surrounding him, Mac's voice, gruff, stressed, bellowing in his ear, sulphur from recently exchanged gunfire mixed with sand in the air, its grit harsh in both eyes and mouth. God, he wished he didn't know that_   ** _smell_**.

_It just had to go to shit, didn't it?_

Even simple missions were not as simple as they seemed anymore...

* * *

He groaned, Sentinel RX system kicking in, easing the shaking. For once, he appreciated its purpose. It processed the urge to puke, taking it away. This, in turn cooled him down. Adam stretched, standing up after a bit. When did he last  _stop_  and focus on himself? Focus on his breathing, without relying on his Redbreathers?

Simply  _stop_  what he was doing, tune out background  _noise_ , listen only to the  _sound_  of his breathing, looking at his chest as it rose and fell? The steady beatings of his heart as it slowed down, earlier panic releasing its hold? Look at his  _surroundings_ , studying the little things, graffiti in varying languages, the differing feeling of objects when he _touched_  them? He could  _distinguish_  quite a few textures, and name them with his eyes closed, looking away so he couldn't  _cheat_ , using his 'enhancements'. Cool metal of taps, grooves in the plastic surrounding the sink, ice cold glass of the mirror...

_Emerald's_  widened. He breathed through his nose, sifting out rage, filtering out anguish at the man that looked back at him. He closed his eyes, picturing Adam,  _human_  Adam. Hazy  _blue_  eyes, grey flecks, forehead without shapes cut into it, no  _nodules_  under his collarbone, only smooth  _skin_ , caressed by the suns rays a tad, a few hairs here and there. Hands, flesh and blood,  _feeling_ , wanting to take a hold of something, be it an apple, a pen, a  _gun_.

_Megan's hand..._

He coughed. Focusing on himself felt selfish, and, by all intents and purposes, it  _was_. Sighing, the man decided he'd have to leave the toilet at some point, lest he retreat into the terrible territory of his mind.

All that would do is paralyse him and he could ill afford mistakes.

* * *

He used paper towels to dry his forehead, cold water to awaken him, and give him a quick boost. According to his retinal aug, he would be arrive in Prague in sixteen minutes. That gave him sixteen minutes to collect himself.

_Sixteen_  minutes to  _appear_  as if he didn't want to burst out crying.

Sixteen  _minutes_  to  _control_  his breathing, look  _less_  like he hadn't slept in days (he hadn't) and concentrate on what lay ahead.

Nothing was ever  _easy_  anymore, Adam knew he severely underestimated 'easy'.


	11. When The Cat's Away

"Adam?"

Adam heard thumping, the sound eerily  _similar_  to that of bodies hitting the floor. The bodies of men he had known mere hours, joked around with littered around him, thin layers of sand obscuring distinguishable features. He scanned around, locating the source to his left.

Delara followed his gaze.

"The sound? Its a settlement being built, I saw heavy crates being craned in a few hours ago, likely building materials". Her voice  _wasn't_  concerned. It was matter of fact. Adam's head shot back to her, not liking her tone.

More, a lack of _anything_.

"Is it getting to you? Dubai?  ** _Panchaea_**?"

Adam's stomach lurched.

"Don't. If I can't process all of it at once, neither can  _you_. I don't want to explain it".

Delara raised a brow, face neutral.

"I apologise. I didn't mean to bring that up too soon".

" _Didn't you_?" Adam questioned, done with formalities. "Delara, I don't think you  _heard_  me. You fill in blanks with wrong, imaginary information". The clock ticked, the time forcing a breath from the man's throat. "Finished?" He questioned, eyes burning into the psychoanalyst's.

All that remained on her face was annoyance, induced by a man being terribly stubborn, in her eyes.

"We are  _not_ ".

Adam didn't deign to look in he direction. The doctor sighed.

"We are,  _for now_. I'll be in touch".

He waved a hand behind him, scurrying off with haste.

Vaclav pinged him, likely wanting to eye him, splice him open with curious eyes.

Adam wasn't keen on the man, but much preferred his company to Delara's...

* * *

_The day prior_

Grace packed a bag, unsure how much to pack in. The bag was already full of clothing, her personal bag with Adam's files and train ticket to Prague. David had gotten in touch only three days prior, not giving her much time to get some things together.

The practise wasn't given enough notice to transfer her over to Task Force 29's database. She'd have to do that herself when she arrived. She also didn't know where she would live, her funds not limited, but they were her own.

If she wasn't working for Oak Wood anymore, they wouldn't be paying her.

She'd have to pay for a hotel room. Feeling unsure wasn't her idea of fun, and it wouldn't be a vacation. It would be for,  _work_?

_Not really. I'd be going there for Adam._

She grabbed her bags, heaving them onto the couch.

_Because I was asked to._

The doctor needed to find a dog kennel, near where she was staying. Freud would hate that, being a personable pooch. He loved people, they came with petting, treats and the joyous sound of his name leaving their mouths.

The brunette closed her eyes, pressing 'call', the number a shelter.

* * *

She'd looked them up, seeing a few dozen pages of reviews. She chuckled at the name, ' _Paws, Jaws and Claws_ ', tickling the miniature Schnauzer's beard as she spoke to the receptionist.

* * *

After ten minutes of what turned out to be fruitless patter, Grace was  _unable_  to procure a spot for Freud, and the hotel she had booked wasn't dog friendly. Giving him away was  _not_  an option.

Putting him in a kill shelter was beyond no, a definite 'fuck no'. Not eloquent in the slightest, but the doctor wasn't fussed.

She couldn't leave him here, he'd pine, whine and be thoroughly miserable.

She should have thought of this  _sooner_...

* * *

Her train time arrived, finding the doctor on the platform, tapping a foot nervously. She wasn't worried about herself. She would be anxious at first, not only in a new environment, but an entire new  _country,_  she found herself strangely paranoid. Awaiting something negative to happen, on an edge of something unpleasant and something catastrophic.

She knew nothing of Prague, tidbits of Adam's current situation and that Delara wasn't working out for him. Unstable ground was her unfortunate ally here, when all she wanted to do was plant her feet...

* * *

Grace sat down, announcements falling on deaf ears.

Firstly, she needed a drink, throat parched, the train's dry, stale air unyielding.

Secondly, she would do a thorough search for Delara Auzenne, Task Force 29 and make further enquires regarding her little canine friend.

She had several hours to burn, and the journey would drag its lazy limbs like a child, made to go somewhere it didn't want to by overeager parents...

* * *

_The next afternoon_

Adam walked out of his appointment, head low, alternatives for 'robot', 'inhuman' and 'cretin on society' thrown at him. The last one made him smirk, reminding him of something Frank would say.

Grace stepped off the train weary, sleep an enemy for reasons she could not process, brain fuzzy, thoughts mush. Grabbing her bags, lugging them around sapped her of even more energy, a banana  _all_  she had eaten during the journey. Potassium wasn't adept at keeping her hunger or tiredness at bay.

Adam swerved, missing a woman's shoulder by inches. He looked over his shoulder, muttering an apology.

He did a double take upon recognising brown and grey zigzags on a lighter grey sweater, white collar peeking out from over top.

* * *

"Grace?" He turned, biting his cheek. "No", he swallowed, " _David_ ".

Grace let out breathless laughter.

"That obvious, huh?"

Her tone spoke that she was worn out, bit exasperated.

"Yes, David asked me to come here. Frank told me your new therapist wasn't quite your cup of tea".

Adam corrected. "Coffee, and no, she  _isn't_ ".

"Not mentioning her name", Grace pondered, managing too without her head exploding, "must be  _serious_ ".

Her last words were mocking. Adam rolled his eyes.

"You've been around Frank too long".

Grace smirked. "You sound like you  _miss_  him".

" _Never_ ". Adam smirked in return, vibrant emerald's scanning her and her bags.

"You're 'analysing' something or other. Please don't tell me your retinal augs can see  _through_  things, because I am  _not_  turning around. It'd be too late anyway", she clarified.

Much to her dismay, Adam's smirk  _grew_. Now, his eyes joined in, taking on a kind of audacious _gleam_.

"And there's me thinking you preferred brain to external factors. Dearie me, was I _wrong_?"

The doctor's second attempt at mocking failed. Her pursed lips and questioning eyes said she did not care. Adam found he liked that, the honesty. He didn't have to overthink her words or actions.

* * *

"Okay, so I know what you are here for, but,  _why_? It can't be just for me"...

That threw the woman for a loop. She made a face.

"Well, no one is paying me to be here. I was asked to come here, but told it was up to me whether or not I accepted the request. I came here of my own accord. So, to  _answer_  your question, rather long-winded, I  _am_  here just for you".

"That almost sounded  _romantic_ ".

Grace retorted. "Because that would completely appropriate. Please Adam", she scanned him, discomfort pulsing in the man's gut, "you're a patient. This isn't some soppy love film, with unfeasible plots, sentences no one would utter and music to rival dodgy backstreet film producers".

Adam would have replied were in not for a glaringly obvious problem with what Grace had just said.

"Hold on. You  _don't_  have a clinic, and you  _aren't_  being paid. Where are you staying even?"

Adam stared openly at her, completely thrown.

"Yes and yes. I understand how strange that sounds, however, our progress and the lack of it here provided more reason for me to come here. I am staying at a hotel, and I do not have a clinic, per-say, but there are rooms I can book. The hotel wouldn't be appropriate". She wore a confident smile, overtaxed taut facial features relaxing. "I will find a way, I'm wiser than I look".

Adam looked away, smiling slightly as she walked away, wheeled case behind her.

"Well, that's.. _.different_ ".

* * *

She wasn't giving up on him. And, whilst he appreciated this, he could only hope she didn't ask to visit  _him_  for appointments.

She wouldn't like what she saw. He was falling, likely smelling like an addict of both nicotine and alcohol.

He was worried, though that was easily remedied.

All too damn easily...

* * *

She stopped, looking at the carrier case in her other hand, beady black eyes opening.

"I also don't have anywhere for Freud to go, and as I don't know anyone here, I won't give him to just anyone".

Adam snapped from dourness.

"I will. I'm gonna be here for some time, so".

Grace smirked, snorting before turning with a straight face.

"Well, we know he rather likes you.  _Can't_  see why"...

Adam grinned, an actual,  _honest_  grin. Grace's eyes narrowed, then widened.

He  _wasn't_  doing that to  _placate_  her.

He was smiling because he _wanted_  too.

It wasn't for  _anyone_  else.

* * *

The doctor found herself elated. She hid this, passing the case to Adam, Freud wiggling when he looked up through the slits of plastic. Adam kept an earnest grin.

"Hey little guy".

He knelt down, people rushing past him, hustle and bustle ignored. The world didn't matter here, its voices were drowned out by a sweet little moustached pooch looking at him. He didn't judge, his eyes only held happiness, tail wagging confirming this. Grace found herself more energised by the scene. That little bit more determined to help Adam help himself.

That's what she had decided on the train. She wouldn't  _lecture_  him, she wouldn't grab a hold of the strings David held and  _cut_  them. She wouldn't cast out a line with bait in the hopes she'd catch a severely  _tortured_  soul.

Adam had to do all that  ** _himself_**.

And, he  _could_. She knew that. It was only a matter of convincing  ** _him_**  of that.

* * *

It was only when he grabbed the bags off the doctor that she smelt something _familiar._  Cigarette smoke was something she had grown used too, many people around her, including her Father smoked religiously.

Adam was no exception, and Grace figured there'd be an augment or two inside him that did damage control, so his lungs wouldn't end up pus filled flesh bags.

No, it wasn't  _that_  smell that bothered her. That  _grimace_  was reserved for a tipple her Mother favoured.

_Bourbon,_  the kind that burned your throat, possibly singing nose hairs if you sniffed too hard.

Now, she'd been made aware that Adam  _liked_  a drink. Whilst there was little wrong with this, the smell, not quite homeless drunk level was akin to someone leaving a bar in the early hours of a morning.

It was there, yet  _not_  there. It lay alongside gun smoke, metal, tobacco and slight sweat.

Primary scent?

_Not quite._  That was tobacco.

Secondary? _Perhaps._

Tertiary?  _Maybe._

_Too woolly headed for this._

* * *

"Grace?"

Grace looked up.

"Hmm?"

"You were gone there". He began walking. "Going to tell me?"

Grace shook her head.

"Not quite now. Sorry Adam". Adam waved a hand, still curious what had her head in the clouds.

"Where are we going?"

Grace pulled out her phone, icon blinking on a map of Prague. She used her fingers to zoom in to the blip.

"The  _'Rudý úsvit hotel'_. Probably said that wrong. Hope no one heard me"...

She quickly followed the man, thrusting out her phone so he could see the GPS coordinates.

A huff left his mouth. Grace was clearly knackered, and did not know that he already located the building as soon as she'd named it.

* * *

"Got it". He humoured her, the doctor scurrying alongside him, putting her phone back in her purse.

The battery died not long after, not that she knew.

It didn't matter. What mattered was her, getting her head down on plush pillows, duvet cover tucked up beneath her chin.

The back of train seats (she'd deduced) were  _not_  conductive for a good night's rest...


	12. In It For The Long Haul

Grace headed towards the industrial district, small cluster of offices her goal. Dr Delara Auzenne had gotten in touch, her request to meet Grace was taken up immediately, the latter deeming it necessary to speak with her.

Why had it  _not_  worked out with Adam?

Likely creative differences, but,  _why_  was that?

Perhaps she was  _hasty_? Not quite as intent on helping Adam help himself? Rather, put him in a corner and _lecture_  him?

Grace panicked. She'd be at a disadvantage if she let herself feel anxiety. She and Delara needed to be on the _same_  page of the same  _book_.

She arrived at Ms Auzenne's office, a small sigh the only indication of her presence.

_Okay, here goes..._

* * *

She knocked lightly, the door opening a second later. A tall brunette answered it, melted amber eyes wary.

"Good morning, Ms Auzenne".

Grace offered a hand. Delara did not take it immediately.

"Please, it's Delara, Miss Fielding. Thank you for taking up my offer".

Offer? Grace thought it a  _sure_  thing?

She took the hand.

"Grace, please".

The two sat.

"Forgive my lack of reply to your email. It automatically went to the _spam_  folder, and I only just retrieved it and Adam's file before it was deleted".

The older woman had a red light flashing in her brain, its glare forcing her to look at the desk in front of her, as to not look suspicious.

"That's fine. Did you _lose_  Adam's file? I have the physical copy", she got it from her bag, "however, I only have the  _one_ ".

Delara's warm brown eyes hardened.

"Surely _I_  should have that?"

Grace tilted her head.

"Ms Auzenne, I am here to take over agent Adam Jensen's treatment plan. You  _should_  have received an email from your employer, and mine, telling you exactly that". She masked a smirk. "Could it unfortunately have landed in the _spam folder_?"

If eyes could kill, Grace could have sworn Delara's were  _stabbing_  her at that exact moment.

"With all due respect, Miss Fielding, I was not informed of this  _arrangement_ ".

"It was a rather  _special_  arrangement, we can agree on that. But I am certain our employers wouldn't have thrown me onto a train to  _Prague_  for nought. You're welcome to clarify it with Mr. Miller, but I can only hope we both have the patient's best interests at heart, and thus I'd appreciate your  _cooperation_ ".

Delara let her head tilt a tad.

" _Miller_? I ought to speak to him. And, with all due respect, the physical copy of Adam's file would be far more  _useful_  than an online one".

"It  _could_ , I agree. This shouldn't be with me, I believe it should have stayed  _inside_  Sarif Industries walls, however, it was deemed prudent I have it. I cannot hand it over if I am returning to my position as Adam's psychologist. I am sure you understand, and would do similar. In our profession, privacy is  _vital_ ".

The younger nodded.

"Discretion is a virtue". The ladies nodded, Delara leaning forward, body language open. "How can I be of service?"

Grace didn't even need a C.A.S.I.E. to see through how badly the therapist was trying to upkeep the professional posture.

And  _failing_  by the moment.

* * *

"I will require the documentation for your recent progress with Mr Jensen".

That threw the psychiatrist. Grace looked expectantly, but feeling deep inside that the red lights just before weren't  _just_  a hunch. Delara suddenly tried to break eye contact by frantically browsing the data on her pocket secretary. She looked...  _lost_. It was painstakingly clear something was amiss, but Delara clearly wasn't losing her footing here.

"I currently have his most recent missions on file, but only online. We do not have a paper trail".

Grace raised a brow.

"I find the latter is easier to keep a hold of. Mr Jensen's file is thick, emails are not. I acknowledge their merits however". She placed the file back in her bag. "Could you forward what you have to me please?"

After all, she held more about Adam in her purse than Delara could glean in  _years_.

* * *

"Recent progress isn't the term I would use for our previous session". Grace nodded, so, Delara continued. "Reticent conjecture".

"Hesitant, it goes without saying he has experienced much in such a small space of time".

"Very much so. He is a strong character, and I believe deep down, he knows that".

Grace resisted a pout.

"You believe he is  _able_  to open himself up? Metaphorically speaking of course".

Delara's eyes flashed concern.

"What else would I mean? Short of taking a  _scalpel_  to his chest...".

Now Grace pouted, eyes wide. That was a rather disgraceful thing to say.

A  _slur_? Simple  _misunderstanding_?

She mustn't have known about the unfortunately  _long_  list of operations Adam was subjected too.

Grace wished she hadn't read the file. Her throat closed up, chest felt like it had a vice around it, ripping into flesh.

If she hurt reading it, if mere words, albeit words, building a horrific scene, akin to a  _horror_  film, she didn't wish to imagine how  _terrible_  it was for him...

* * *

Silence, a pregnant pause lingered in the still space. Grace's hazy eyes snapped open, clouded from tears.

"Whilst I respect you, and your opinion is valued, I  _disagree_. I believe Adam  _is_  in there, inside the metal that is his new body. His heart is that what it was prior to the violation of his modesty. The organ remained pure, despite it being tampered with by  _multiple_  people. However, I do not think he can truly be free again, freedom is a bane in a world that sees you are a  _freak_. It cannot be achieved by a man who does not feel worthy of  _anything_  other than disdain. Adam is a puzzle, he does not want the pieces to be found. I do not want to find them, he must do that  _himself_. I can only encourage that foray, discourage prying eyes, words misspoken from minds not willing to understand external differences from forcing him to flee. Bury himself in packets of items that will cause more  _damage_. I don't need to hear that he is becoming an addict, I  _saw_  it for myself".

Grace made an ultimatum, brave leap when she should have strolled.

"That's my observation. I see you do not agree. That is fine. However, as I have been brought in, you  _know_  what that means".

Delara looked relieved, stressing Grace a tad.

"You seem more equipped to handle Adam than I. He should  _thrive_  with your guidance".

Grace offered a hand, not in respect, but simply a gesture, it was up to Delara _if_  it held anything.

"Thrive? I wouldn't use that word. I would say 'survive'  _without_  self hatred, the world's view should  _not_  matter. Adam does not have to love himself, only believe he is worth something, and  _always_ was. Outward appearance accounts for little, especially when one's internal is  _flawed_ , their mind skewed. I wish Adam lives in the now, not that he forces his past from sight, but sees it as a change that, although he could not control, it has served him well. Externally, his form is strong. Inside, it is  _crumbling_ , staunch facade does not assist him. Cement cracks are beginning to show in the armour he wears, and I don't mean his  _augments_ ".

Dr Auzenne took Grace's hand.

"You truly manage to  _understand_  him, get on his level. I see your wavelength is similar to Adam's, though, I find myself torn on how to view that".

The older brunette's head tilt was an inquiry.

"Comes off as  _personal_ , when it ought not to be".

"I try to have a personal element there. Being on their level means I learn  _how_  to speak to them. Not everyone reacts well to certain phrases, wording can take a fragile mind and send it hurtling off a  _cliff_. I wish to understand them, in a non-condescending way. I hear too many of my fellows treat their patients as if they are  _dim_  bulbs, needing a new  _power_  source. They are not  _bulbs_ , we are not  _sockets_. We should energise them, yes, give them back the confidence they have buried deep down. It's rare they have given up  _completely_ , no matter how much they think they have. If they truly  _had_...".

She let Delara fill in the rest, the younger appreciative but feeling as if Grace was  _schooling_  her in her _own_  job...

* * *

"They  _wouldn't_  have come to us. Grace", she stood, "I wish you luck. You a positive person, an influence for what is  _good_  in the world. It needs more people like you. Thank you again for coming to see me. Adam has a chance to regain his  _humanity_ , I truly wish he does".

If alarm scarlet got any brighter, they would  _blind_  her. Grace squinted, turning away from the woman, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"I hope I am not causing you too much distress. You don't have to  _move_ , do you?"

Delara shook her head.

"No, this complex is owned by my employer. As you are not with them, I cannot get you an _office_  as of now. I can talk with Miller, however. I do not know why he would ask you here, but not provide you with an office. That strikes me as  _odd_ ".

Grace waved, making her way to the door.

"I have only  _just_  arrived, its fine. And, I am glad I came to visit, comparing notes and gaining different viewpoints is important to me. You're welcome". She opened the door. "I ought to go, forgive my exhausted appearance. It was a sudden move here. Luckily, I made plans on the way".

The elder woman decided to be firm but fair. Delara flared worry in her mind and gut, but she wouldn't let her see that.

"Good bye, for  _now_ ".

Delara waved, the door shut, as Grace made her way back to the hotel.

* * *

_Regain his humanity?_

Adam  _wasn't_  human?

_What on Earth is Delara babbling about?_

Grace got out her phone, the email app an automatic popup, as if the device predicted her thoughts.

That, or she was  _predictable_...

She pressed Adam's email address, copying it into the address bar.

* * *

_I just met with Delara, I see your point, why it did not work out._

_When you are free, we ought to meet, discuss where to go from here._

_Thanks._

_Regards,_

_Grace._

* * *

She pressed 'send', watching the icon fly off the screen with a sigh. The doctor decided, after she dropped off her purse to have a look around the city centre, the brisk wind refreshing her.

If Adam replied, that would be great.

The sooner, the  _better_.

She wouldn't rush him.

After all, she wasn't  _Delara_...


	13. Belladonna

Grace sat in the hotel lobby, cappuccino in her hand, blowing on it softly. The liquid rippled, white leaf pattern disintegrating. Delicate sips savoured mild coffee, just the right hit of caffeine. She had a call from Miller, asking when she was available to meet, schedule a meeting. He was to procure an office for her, when, she wasn't quite sure. A tad flutter in her stomach wouldn't go away. She rationalised it was being in a new city, having not slept too well. That always put her on edge, made her moody. The hot liquid dulled the edge. A gentle breeze rolled through the room, the doctor got a chill. Not the kind that lasted a second, but the kind that took your _entire_  body hostage, curve of the spine reflex response.

Perhaps it was premonitory, though the brunette hadn't thought  _this_  was what would follow.

* * *

Her phone rang, name instantly recognisable.

_Faridah_.

Grace answered, auto-pilot mode engaged.

"Good morning Faridah".

Malik was manic, hurtling words ten to the dozen.

"Grace, Adam called me last night, 3 am, voice hoarse. He sounded pained, hell, I've seen him after he was shot, beaten bloody by Namir, but", her voice broke, chilled calm taking on cold icy distress, "someone ** _hurt_  **him, Grace. Those sounds, Jesus, it was like he was being  _strangled_ , it grew faint, then groans, shit, they frightened me, and I've seen  ** _a lot_** ".

Grace grabbed a pen and paper.

"Okay. Faridah? I need you to  _breathe_ ". Coaching someone through an anxiety attack wasn't on her agenda. Hell, it wasn't part of her job, however, the woman was panicking, and Grace wasn't about to ignore that.

"He'll be at the local L.I.M.B Clinic, I suppose. The hospital wouldn't have the right equipment to repair any damage to his augments and their component parts".

Malik sucked in stale VTOL air.

"No, Grace I  _told_  him to do that", she let out the breath, coming out a gasp, "he  ** _refused_**. He doesn't want to go back to a clinic, not after what they tried to do with the dodgy chip. He would have  _died_  against Namir had he gotten it fitted. He doesn't trust them and hospitals will only turn him away, especially in Prague. The anti-aug movement is  _rampant_  in medical centres".

The brunette closed her eyes, an entirely different shiver dancing its way over her. The phrase 'like someone walked over my grave'? She'd gone  _cold_ , goosebumps, raised hairs on her arms.

_Shit._

She sighed. "Okay. Do you know where he lives?"

Faridah laughed, a frustrated chirp.

"I can't  _pronounce_  it. Here, I'll send you the coordinates for it".

A beep and voice came from her device, Malik's voice.

"Tell me about it. I think every time I mention the hotel's name, I make the words sound utterly  _common_ ".

The pilot huffed a chuckle.

"I'll coach you there. Fuck, I want to be  _there_ , I can't stand it when Adam's away and hurt. He's like  _family_  to me. I don't like it at all".

Grace nodded, rooting around for her headphones.

"I'll use my headphone and mic, be easier to hear you". She glanced outside, finishing her drink, popping the almond biscotti in her mouth. "Its busy, not like London or Detroit.  _Chaos_ , no order, its like everyone for themselves here. Or, more specifically,  _augmented people_  versus _non-augmented_. The latter's depravity knows  _no_  bounds. I know little of augments, though I suspect the people who lobby against augments  _do_  either".

She stood, put away her things and plugged in her headphones.

* * *

Signs in Czech all around her 'greeted' untrained hazel eyes. Looking through the crowd to find train station boards was like look for a needle in a one hundred acre field for a single needle. She gathered, from angry mob and loutish howls that the groups currently residing in and around the train station were the ones who believed any replacements, any enchantments went against  _nature_ , went against _God_. Whatever they chose to think was up to them. Picus News broadcast on every screen around the doctor, forcing her gaze upward.

* * *

Eliza Cassan's pristine apparel and flawless makeup gave off sophistication, air of grandiosity. Grace looked beyond that, seeing through the carefully honed image. Peeling back the layers? Picus was nothing more then  _bureaucratic_  tosh, masquerading as 'news'. It likely spat out  _exactly_  what the protesters wanted to hear. All about the terrible accident in Panchaea, what occurred with the biochip. Any excuse to blame augments on something, the hatred spilling forth overflowing many cups.

_People hate what they don't understand, and ignore what they can't..._

* * *

Grace filtered out as much as she could, focusing on Faridah's directions. She _could_  have looked at the interactive map, updating itself every few seconds with her steps, but a  _voice_? A  _human_  uttering the directions? That was what Grace needed.

It was Malik's _voice_  that prevented her from flinching as she was pushed by hoards of people getting off the train, despite her being kind enough to leave  _plenty_  of room for them to move around her.

Grace pinched her nose, bit her lip and straightened her back. Stepping on to the train, she kept her composure, physiologist attire slipping on smoothly.

So smoothly, it  _frightened_  her.

* * *

The aforementioned attire practically hit the floor, dull, harrowing thud when she saw  ** _Adam_**. Bloody gauze stuck to his chest, harsh, jagged lines criss-crossed his abdomen, nasty purple bruising on his arms, angry scarlet peppered throughout. His hair stuck fast to his face, ruby liquid the  _glue._  If he frowned any deeper, she could  _hike_  across his forehead...

_For fucks sake, Adam..._

Grace swallowed, masking a shriek with a hand. Adam didn't appear to  _notice_  that.

In fact, he barely acknowledged her _existence_. The world outside his apartment was not his  _domain_.

Stepping into it felt like stepping into a realm of  _Hell,_ heat  _unbearable_ , pressure cooker atmosphere.

Only, it wasn't the Devil Grace saw.

It was a broken  _angel_ , light peeking in from a window pane the curtain failed to cover illuminating  _damaged_  flesh. Shadows could only cover so much when the one inside it lay  _bare_ , form used, abused for such a long time.

And it was such a  ** _long_**  time...

* * *

Grace scanned the space, inhaled sweat laden air. The want to cover her nose with her cardigan was quelled when eyes caught varying size bottles of whisky dotted around.

People pleasing was a strong suit of hers.

This was not a time where she wanted to do that.

Shouting at the man would accomplish little.  _Different_  tactics needed to be employed here.

She gave the kitchen area a once over, hazel growing amused at boxes of 'Magic Gnome' cereal.

"I don't know what to say".

"Then don't say  _anything_ ".

Grace jumped out of her skin, attention not on Adam's whereabouts.

"You think I have a problem".

She steadied herself, hand over her heart, formulating words as rapidly as she could.

"I think you have the  _munchies_. Also, if you did, you'd have  _hidden_  those". She pointed at each and every bottle she saw. "Six? I have three bottles, and those have been there for quite some time. Each of those are half or three-quarters empty".

" _Seven_ ".

Grace's mouth formed a thin line, eyes disapproving. Adam shook his head.

"I don't need judgement".

The doctor wanted to judge him, not as a psychologist, but as an, acquaintance? She shook her head of that.

"No, but your apartment needs a  _clean_ ".

This situation was bizarre, to say the least. Should she use a bag to store the bottles? She always carried several for Freud, to clean up after him on their walks.

They were not _hers_  to touch. Her heart thundered in her ears, all noise drowned out by heavy beat. The doctor quickly gave up on her idea.

* * *

"I am not here to lecture you".

Adam cut her off.

"Then why are you?"

"We are concerned Adam".

" _We_?"

"Faridah, Frank, myself".

"And Sarif, right? Concerned his and  _several_  investors billions will go down the pan?"

"That, alcohol and the contents of your stomach". The doctor looked away. "You asked me here for a reason. This _isn't_  it".

Adam shrugged. Somehow, the doctor caught that, and it irked her more than she should have allowed it.

"I allocate my time to what I believe to be a cause worth  _fighting_  for. Your cause is a vast one, not of your making. You aren't helping, however. Self destruction will only go one way, and that is down the  _toilet_ ".

Her patient's face took on a green tinge. "I'd throw up, if I were you. All of", she span around, pointing at offending carnelian liquid vice, "that in your system? Your Sentinel? Overloading that doesn't sit well with me. I'll set about cleaning all of this up".

Adam protested, head spin regretting it.

"Grace, just leave. I can handle _myself_ ".

She'd heard enough.

"Then why did you let me in? I am not a  _babysitter_ , Adam. Not here to put reigns on you so I  _know_  the hell you are. And, yes, this _isn't_  professional Grace. For now, she's sitting this one  _out_ ".

She placed her purse down, clicking the lock open, she grabbed the roll of doggy bags.

"I won't throw the bottles away, or down the sink, okay? Just do  _one_  thing for me".

The tell tale signs of incoming puke fest hit him like a brick wall.

"What, stick a dog leash 'round my neck?  _Hang_  myself with it whilst I'm at it. That's what you attach a reign too, isn't it?"

Grace stared him down, stern faced, not listening to his drunken self-pity, knowing it was the drunk part speaking right now.

"Adam! Just go into the bathroom and vomit. That's all I  _ask._  No counselling, no 'let me refer you to an addiction specialist', no mind games. _Please_ ".

Adam wasn't there when she used her request, the distant retching oddly a  _good_  thing.

The sympathy card was there, however, in Grace's hand, she was debating as to whether or not to hand it to him.

She set about collecting bottles, stacking them next to one another, satisfying clinking her reward.

* * *

It was half an hour before Adam came out from the bathroom, now sporting a black tee and towel around his neck. Sweat looked like shiny glaze on a cake, sunken, jaded eyes wouldn't look at her, only the floor. Head tilted down, shadows played about his face, masking a scowl. Grace wasn't sure what was so  _interesting_  about the floor...

"All done". She did the dishes and put dirty laundry in the washing machine whilst she set about cleaning the agent's home. "So, going to tell me what happened? I know you are ill, and likely pissed, in  _both_  uses of the words, but I'm not leaving until I get a semblance of an answer".

Adam grumbled, milk sour in his throat. He was out of mouthwash, and water wasn't cutting through the acid burn. No food came out now, only bile.

"Okay, I can work with a grunt. Caveman roots?" Grace took off her gloves, placing them neatly next to the drainer. "Say 'Ugg' for yes, and grumble for no. Since you said no, I can assume you just walked into a wall again? Or, _through_  it, I should say. Seriously,  ** _doors_** , they are there for a reason. Not just cosmetic, they aren't there to break up walls of solid bricks and mortar".

"The  _hell_  are you talking about?" Came her reply, perplexed, vexed.

Grace grinned.

"And, he's _back_. Good to see you're there. Not many situations where yelling 'Hello' to God on the big, white telephone is the best option, I'll admit". Grace opened up. "Faridah called me, said you got in touch with her early this morning", she added, "it was three there. She said you were in some degree of pain, resisting her pleas for you to seek urgent medical care because of a biochip. Now, I won't go into what information I was given on that, however, I wish to understand why you don't  _want_  help? I am here, so, you must want  _some_ , to a certain degree".

Adam whined,  _pathetic_  in his ears, though, Grace heard different. That was the asking, the  _plea_  for mercy. Life was treating him like shit, worse than something on someone's shoe, and he'd had  _enough_. Spending the morning patching himself up, using whisky to numb all feeling was driving him towards the balcony his apartment had.

The only reason he didn't end it was Freud, the pup's obsidian gaze curious as to what the  _noises_  were. The poor canine shrank back when he  _bellowed_  at him to get out, yanking his front door open, telling him to _leave._

He hadn't  _seen_  the dog after that, he'd hidden himself somewhere, burying himself, hemming himself in, just as Adam so desperately wanted to do.

Grace hadn't said anything, observation the only card she played.

But Adam was  _done_. This was overkill, he'd had _enough_ , and wasn't drinking himself to death.

Not that he could. His fucking 'not so useless' Sentinel would force up anything he wished to keep _down_.

Emerald's faced her, neck following.

He was ready to answer...

* * *

"I was leaving an acquaintance's studio when I was ambushed by Police riot robots. They hit hard, and I couldn't fight back. I don't know why, but my muscles seized, legs wouldn't move".

Grace sat on the arm of the sofa opposite his.

"They  _battered_  me, knocked me unconscious for a good half hour. When I came too, Kollar stood over me, concerned but curious. I wasn't able to get away from his prodding and probing. He fixed me up as best he could, but didn't have much stock in. That's when I came back here. The cotton balls were  _soaked_  with blood, so I changed those, cleaning out the gashes with antiseptic wash. Stung like hell, hence the bottles. I kept grabbing them, and cleaning until I didn't know which way was up. I don't  _remember_  calling Malik". Adam huffed. "Least it wasn't  _Frank_ ".

Grace passed him a pack of smokes, knowing he'd want one, After all, he'd gone an  _hour_  without one, and he was truly a nicotine _fiend_...

* * *

"Yes, Frank would have shown more concern for the  _pavement_  you bled all over. Police riot robots? Shouldn't they be policing the  _rebellion_  on the streets? Not beating you to a pulp?" She inquired, sighing. "This Kollar, you mentioned his 'interest' in what you have inside and outside regarding augments. Could he help you here?"

Adam nodded. "If I told him about you, that would get you involved in far more than politics and past red tape".

"And? Adam, I am here to help too. If Koller can assist your body, I can try to assist what's inside, join forces with him. I ought to thank him, and Malik. Without them, you  _wouldn't_  be here, and neither would I. I wouldn't have had a  _clue_. I am sorry I haven't given you an appointment card. Things are stalling in finding me an office, though I fully understand, given the circumstances". Grace gave the space a final peruse. "May I inquire as to where Freud is? I thought he'd come, hearing  _my_  voice, is all"...

Sheepish, the agent frowned.

"I  _shouted_  at him. All he did was sit on the sofa, looking at me, and I  _yelled_. Fuck. Grace?" The doctor walked around slowly, softly singing Freud's name. "What's happening to me?"

Freud's ears peeked out from behind his bedroom wall. Adam's heart felt like  _lead_ , sinking into his stomach. He was under his bed the  _entire_  time, Adam's shelter now his own...

* * *

Grace got on her knees, offering her friend a hand.

"No one is a complete puzzle, Adam. Everyone has a piece or two missing. Your's was shaken up, pieces flying in different directions. Some in Sarif's office, some in your old office, some on the streets, others in Panchaea, Dubai and here.  _Here_  is where the remainder lie. Now, I can attempt to find them, or assist you in creating new ones, new pathways, so to speak. See?" Freud tottered out, nuzzling her hand. " _Freud_  is a piece, isn't he? Not many can resist that face".

Adam felt a grin pull its stings on his lips. He let it happen, relief flooding him, no longer a mirage.

He nodded. "Even Frank would let the straight-faced mask drop for a split second, replaced by a slight smile".

Grace picked the pup up, turning to face him. She kept him close to her chest, his ear on her heart.

"I think it would crack if he  _smiled_. Then I'd have to clean  _his_  office too, old dustpan and brush combo. Classic".

Adam t'ched.

"He's afraid, but I can feel his paws pushing on my arms. He  _wants_  to sit with you. Now, can I trust you won't raise your voice at him?"

Adam nodded a bit too eagerly.

"I won't. I didn't mean it, little guy". He directed that at the dog. He really didn't  _mean_  it. Freud had nothing to do with his downfall. His misery was his own, it took the place of his shadow. Freud needn't be in shade of  _his_  making...

* * *

"Freud, is Adam forgiven?"

Adam thought it ridiculous, but went along with it anyway.

Seemingly suspicious eyes gave him the once over, Freud really studying his face, specifically his  _eyes_. Adam didn't find it unnerving funnily enough.

The pup wormed his way from his owner's arms, so, she plopped him on the couch. He waddled up to Adam's lap. Grace laughed.

"Still reticent. Its alright, mustachioed friend". The brunette grabbed her notepad. "I'll get a unit or something, for the continuation of our appointments. Would that be alright? When you've  _recovered_ , of course".

Adam took the pad.

"I'll take a week off. Next Monday?"

Grace squinted as he wrote.

"A  _week_? Judging by your condition, I'd..."

"I thought you said you  _wouldn't_  judge?" Grace shook her head, realising her error. "Says the woman,  _still_  using pen and paper". He added, snark evident.

"Says the man using a  _pen._  Why have a pen if it's so 'old fashioned', huh?"

Mental gymnastics quickly overcame anxious fretting in the man's mind. He didn't feel quite as ill now.

"10 am? I am meeting with Kollar. There's something wrong with some of my augments. Can't work if I can't utilise what I have to the fullest".

Grace nodded, taking back the pad.

"Perhaps try meditation? I don't believe in pseudoscience, but controlled breathing exercises can help ease strain, whether physical, and or mental". Her purse was slung around her arm. "I'll see you then. Also,  _do_  mention me to Kollar. If it gets me into trouble, its on _my_  back, not yours. We  _can_  look after ourselves, and deal with consequences, if and when they happen".

The doctor offered a reassuring smile, gnawing doubt in her gut swallowed further down. It could gnaw where it liked, she wouldn't let him  _witness_  it.

* * *

"See you soon".

She opened the door and left the complex, leaving out ' _try not to get yourself murdered between now, and Monday_ '.

Not that she  _wanted_  him to get murdered, period...


	14. Fata Morgana

_Different_. That word glittered in Adam's peripheral vision as pain shot through him, quickly dulled by some unknown fluid in an IV stood next to him. Swimming through sludge, his mind tried trudging on, oblivious to his current bedridden state. All around him was beeping, lights. The former annoyed him, pricking eardrums, the latter its soft glow blinded him, squinting was all he could do. His eyes felt swollen, sore, like he'd been punched.

A testament to him pissing off the wrong person?

**Wait...**

Vision pawed at him, memory hazy, throwing themselves round in chaotic dance inside his head.

* * *

Fusion, a start took him as he gazed into the mirror, full length by David's request.

**"Oh god",**  Adam blinked, new emerald orbs bleary, body weary. He sagged forward, reflex automatic to brace himself again cool glass. The arm he braced himself with was  _not_  his. This was not _his_ limb. Not his  _body_. He looked down, frantic, anger fizzling to awkwardness, emotional state all over the place.

_Altered_? Yes.

_**Fixed**_? Not at all.

* * *

" _ **Why**_ ", Adam cried in his head, afraid to cry it allowed. David's voice resonated in his head. He wasn't sure if the man was even in the room. All he could do was focus on the body the was before him, this abhorrent mass of flesh and metal.

_Son, we did this to save your life. I couldn't let you go._

Adam scoffed.

_You kept dying Adam, I couldn't stand it._

Adam cried.  ** _"And you think I can stand this? Would I ever have agreed to this?"_**

David's silence was poignant.

" **Thought not** ", Adam spat.

Horror, that's the word Adam had in his head.

**"You violated me. When did I consent to this?"**

His visage crumbled, reflection showing skin flaking off, into hands that were _still_  not his. Porcelain shards rained down, splotches white on black, like dandruff. David wasn't there in the mirror, only when he looked over his shoulder. His former boss' human hand found its way onto his shoulder.

**"Get the fuck off me".**

David drew back. Adam let out an ear-piercing screech as he attempted to turn, grab his arm and twist it.

_I knew what I was doing was immoral, abhorrent, I didn't do it with those in mind, however. I began contemplating my actions long before I enacted them. I knew, Adam. Megan gave me her research results. We..._

Adam screamed, coughing harshly, throat unused.

**"I knew it. She was just like you, didn't care for anyone other than herself. The only thing that mattered was my DNA, and that was fucked up beyond repair. And then you fucked up my body. Why do people screw me over? The fuck did I do to deserve this?"**

_I did everything, Megan only contributed research. I trusted that, I was the catalyst, not her. You're angry at her for no discernible reason._

**"NO REASON? Do you know what she did? She LIED. Every day we dated, every time I looked at her like she was an angel, every time we _fucked_ , she  _lied_. Am I the only one who thinks lying about love is pathetic?"**  He scoffed, metal fingers scrunching. He stared at them, one by one, they folded, exactly like a human's would. Why did he need joints and knuckles, unless he were a...

* * *

**The file...**

Adam cried, tears spilling over, sloshing his chest. Salt hit wounds, seizing his form. Hunched over, he could do little to control himself.

**"I saw the file. I'm a weapon, aren't I? Your 'Magnum Opus', a lusus naturae",**  he looked at weaving metal, varying intensities of black signalling muscle, veins,  _skin_ ,  **"a brute".**  Forgetting this was all in his head, he looked into the reflective material, spluttering spit on it, his form little flesh, almost all metal.

David frowned, looking at his augmented arm.

Weapon? You were security Adam, you were my security, my worker's safety. Military grade, best money could provide.

**"Oh please! It wasn't your money. It was investors. You sold me off to the highest bidder. Who the fuck owns me? You only have the leash, David, not the collar".**  The agent butt in.  **"Could I die if I strangled myself with it? Could they kill me? This, this isn't okay. I can't".**

Saline dripped off his nose. He touched it, his face, from what he could see, perception blurred, was fairly untouched, save for an odd, hexagonal shape above his left eye, ending below his hairline. His hand touched these nodules at the side of his eyes. Darkness took him, for a split second, everything went  _dark_. He tapped the glass, ping strikingly audible.

**Shades?**

What was he, a ' _Man In Black_ '?

His reflection told him that all he needed was the suit, and he'd be an  _honourable_  member...

* * *

**"One thing"** , Adam turned, sniffling, snot pooling in his nostrils, **"why? Actually why, not some bullshit excuse, like 'You were going to die'. You hacked me apart, and I felt it. I felt my flesh being carved, heard bone being sawn through. I fucking felt it, You chose to keep me alive, despite my body not wanting to be, I wanted to die, that was taken away. My rights are no longer my own. I am exasperated, torn between hitting you, or the mirror. I don't like what I see. Smeared blood, bandages oozing pus, yellowed flesh, swollen eyes, look like I've had the shit kicked out of me".**

He faced Sarif's form.

**"People I trust harm me, maim me, put me in a corner, expecting me not to fight. Derision graced sad features. I can't say any of this to you. My head is messed up, everything is scrambled, yet, you just stand there, throwing that damn ball. Throw it to me".**

David's knowing Fatherly tone dampened down Adam's anger, abating it, a balm for raw sorrow.

_I already did, son. I gave you a chance, a second go at life. It wasn't a choice for you, though, did you really wish to die? Namir took away the woman you loved, the employees you sat with, chatting about everything and nothing. You're heart is in the right place, no matter what happens, you always fight. A corner is only a corner if you back yourself into it._

The man he thought of as a son collapsed before him, convulsing, constricted throat forcing out gasps. Adam, a full blown panic attack charged him, he waved fabric in front of a bull and it flew at his creation, smashing ribs into his lungs.

* * *

Vivid thoughts of Adam, spliced open from the viewing window, surgeons gloves brown and red, iodine mixing with life, the very thing leaving the agent as his mentor looked on.

_Forgive me?_

Why was he  _questioning_  his decision? It wasn't made in  _jest_ , seconds of thought, this was serious. A move so drastic, conjecture wasn't considered.

If this got out, it would be  _headline_  news all over the world.  _All_  the money in existence couldn't hide his creation for long.

Why would he hide, when he had Dr Frankenstein  _and_  his creature in his grasp?

* * *

Adam almost launched himself from his bed from the force of waking up. His eyes attempted to scan the room but his head was foggy. All that greeted him was Freud, sitting on the edge of his bed, head tilted slightly. The puppy kept his distance, tail still, very unlike him. Freud's disposition was happy-go-lucky, yet, now, it looked as if the canine  _knew_  something wasn't right.

Back ramrod straight, Adam smoothed down hairs, loud breath hissing in the solemn solitude of his room.

"Hey, little guy. C'mere".

Freud tottered to him. Nuzzling his hand, Adam felt his fur, though, not like he could when his arms were flesh and blood.

* * *

The man put on a funny slogan tee and boxers after getting up, considering carnelian vice, a pack of cigarettes conveniently sat beside a glass on his table. Familiar clicking halted his hand, mind closing fingers, telling him to 'stop'. He turned, Freud had followed him, a small pink ball in his mouth. Weariness sat him, the need for comfort, something to focus on had a hand pat the cushion beside him. Grey paws, the sight of fluffy pink ears eased a smile onto the agent's lips. Freud jumped, dropping the ball, nudging it toward him.

Adam smiled, quiet laughter lightening the atmosphere, that light holding potential, and that potential held the beginnings of him moving  _forward_.

His appointment with Grace was in two days. Adam wasn't one for jovial chatting with lattes and friends, he was a loner at heart.

But, he was beginning to  _regret_  keeping himself to himself. Sure, some held ill intent, multiple languages, varying insults uttered from loudmouths, believing he hadn't  _heard_  them. His ears needed no assistance when someone  _bullied_  him. He'd grown  _used_  to it, barbs shortened, dulled to the point they were rendered mere pin pricks.

It used to get to him. Why was he  _deserving_  of such treatment? He practically heard Grace's voice answering, disapproving but mellow, non-confrontational.

* * *

_You aren't. You never **were**. Most bullies project what's happening to them onto others, as they feel powerless. In doing so, they gain a twisted sort of 'power', creating a victim. There's nothing wrong with being one, but forcing someone to be wrong is unjustifiable. You're as much a victim in so much as people make you. You don't give off obvious victim, its reluctant. To a certain extent, I understand that._

* * *

_There's a thing,_  Adam's brain added,  _Grace hasn't told me much about herself._

**Why would she? Its her job to listen, advise, not bombard with her life story,**  a different, more logical yet decidedly anxious part chimed in.

He snorted, flickers of alien feeling emerging, filling him with abject oddness. A tapping on his thigh, wondering mind, wandering eyes quested to find the source.

Freud, he'd placed a paw on his leg, bubblegum pink sphere in his mouth dropped into his lap. Whatever the Miniature Schnauzer did made the man crack a grin as  _wide_  as possible.

Drink _forgotten_ , glass pushed  _aside_ , toxic cravings _ignored,_  Adam picked up the ball, smooth texture reminding him of David's stress ball. Upon the man's name popping up, he expected to feel  _rage_. to jump up, trash his apartment, surroundings destroyed, trinkets scattering...

Freud, running for his  _life_.

_No. Not anymore. If I am going to change, I must change my behaviour._

* * *

**Seeing things through blurred eyes makes you unable to truly see what's all around you.**

Grace said _that_  too. Adam, at the time shaking his head, head resting on restless hard palm. Now he thought on it, she was  _correct_. Adam wasn't seeing what she saw, he  _chose_  to see through blurred vision.

She didn't. Did she see what the  _world_  saw, or what she  _chose_  to see?

The woman didn't see him as strange, an  _outcast_. She saw through rose tinted glasses, the anxious part crept back in, gnawing  _blunt_  teeth on an ear.

Again, Adam shook his head, the ball squeezed in a hand, thoughts on where to throw it, familiar sounds of an ecstatic hound as he scampered after it.

He threw it onto the carpet in front of the entrance to the kitchen.

* * *

Freud  _failed_  to make the leap onto the floor, looking at the hand that threw it. He sniffed it, warm, wet breath causing Adam to suck in a breath. Did the pup think he was going to  _hit_  him? His hand  _was_  raised above granite grey fur.

* * *

As he extracted his hand, thin air holding it, Freud head bobbed it, dry nose tickling palm. The man felt that, it actually  _tickled_  him. He laughed, squirming, peridot gaze bright, seeing the dog hurtle onto the floor, sprinting for his toy.

Adam learned what he felt, laying down on the couch, no need for a blanket, cushion substitute for a pillow.

_Belief_ , no longer a pipe dream in the seemingly endless pipe system that was his mind.


	15. In Another Life

It was painfully obvious the man would  _collapse_. As he sat, he looked off kilter, tipping to the right, then steadying himself in opposite directional motion. Grace observed, nerves inching their way down her spine, into her arms. They became restless, fingers flexing, knuckles clicking. She'd be lying if she said what she felt was little more than concern.

It bordered on frenzied _panic._  Frenzied oblivion sat before her, in the guise of a male, worn out, strung out. Beaten and used.

Slipping the psychologist mask back on stung. She needed glue, the extra strong kind you couldn't get off your hand.  _Singe_  the skin off her face, all for the sake of 'professionalism'.

She had to 'prop him up' with  _lexicon_.

* * *

"You got  _up_ , you came  _here_ , you fed Freud, you fed yourself, you visited Vaclav...you are _focusing,_  prioritising. Remember what I said about Frankenstein? His focus was one one thing and one thing only. He was  _single_  minded. You are not that at all. You  _dismiss_  yourself often. I believe you need to talk about something heavy, its weight drags you down".

Adam heard that, Grace held out an olive branch.

He grasped, fingers snapping, though not bark.

He clutched at  _straws_ , plastic giving way with simple muscle flex.

* * *

Grace took back a straw, thoroughly squished, staring upon it as if it were important somehow.

It was, if she counted the ones Adam  _broke_...

* * *

"You think I'm lying? Being paid to be 'nice'?" She moved back, hands up. "Okay, analyse me. Ask my questions, and you can see if I am, indeed lying, or not".

Adam wasted no time.

"What did you think when you _first_  saw me?"

"Brooding, quiet, gait slow, someone who didn't wish to be there, pushed there by  _someone_  else. My guess?" She chuckled. "Frank".

Adam nodded, himself laughing in agreement. So far, so good. Grace wasn't bullshitting him.

"In the office? Silence vanished, but was replaced by abject dejection. Self belief non-existent, loathing quite apparent. It saddened me to see you like that. I always got the feeling that, below the surface lay a kind man, one who cares for others. Your description of Megan _confirmed_  this".

Adam didn't want her to stop, it felt as if she'd hit something deep inside him, deeply ingrained in roots long since seen the _light_  of day. She'd stumbled upon him, the him he thought died what felt like  _aeons_  ago.

Grace saw hesitance in the creases of his eyes.

"I also saw hope. I  _still_  see it. The potential for so much more than metal. Did you think I believed you a black market metal dealer, with a penchant for wearing black?"

Adam's laughter increased in volume. Even now, Grace was able to diffuse potentially hazardous topics. Any blip in his recovery was covered,  _smoothed_  over by her.

And he had  _no_  idea how she did it.

He was forever grateful he chose not to go down the drugs route. He'd rather feel than be  ** _dead_**  inside...

* * *

"Last night", Adam began, Grace's eyes sparkling, mouth wanting to quirk, muscles hurting from withheld alleviation, "I had a nightmare". He scoffed, dismissing the word.

Grace propped him up again.

"Children tend to make things up in their heads, vivid imaginations can conjure all sorts. Adults? Much more likely they have witnessed things that cause  _real_  nightmares to arise. You've got this".

Adam, by all intents and purposes was bracing himself against a barely over five foot woman, her feet firmly planted in the ground when all his wanted to do was  _buckle_.

He couldn't buckle, 'tendons' created  _hardy_  as to not fall over, make a prat of himself.

"It was a little after the operations. I stood before a mirror in my apartment, my reflection not my own. Felt like I was looking at someone else, only, I stood in  _their_  place. Spasms in my shoulders made me hiss, until I looked at what was now my arms. Something out of Blade Runner, hell, Men In Black. Not an ordinary guy anymore, but a jumbled mess of skin, bone and metal. I was freezing, though not aware that I was  _naked_  for some time. Sarif appeared out of nowhere, and I braced myself against the mirror, making a fist despite not knowing anything of these limbs. I somehow stood up on foreign legs, prevented myself from crashing head first into the mirror. It grew hazy then, as David explained why he did what he did, what Megan's involvement was. He took the blame, though, not the fault. It wasn't  _his_. I questioned if it were mine, simply because _I_  died that night. Was I  _wrong?_  'Wrong place, wrong time?' Would he have done this to someone  _else_ , given their circumstances were akin to mine?"

* * *

The woman said nothing, face neutral, posture neither tense nor too relaxed. She wasn't about to slouch as if she were at home, on the couch with popcorn and Freud. Slouching came off as bored to her, whoever was chatting should get to the point or  _be quiet_ , the reciprocate of said conversation was not interested.

* * *

A switch flicked, Adam's face morphing into abject childlike innocence.

"Why me, I begged,  _needing_  an answer. I didn't care for whatever the hell was wrong with the  _mirror_. What it showed me was _all_  wrong. It had to be a dream. Things like that don't happen to people, regardless of how severely they were injured. Sure, people got the odd arm, leg replacement, perhaps neural, enhancements to an  _already_  capable frame and mind. Only, neither of mine were capable of dealing with", rolling up sleeved, the man's eyes, disdain evident followed the curvature of his wrists, " _this_. This isn't right, surely...".

* * *

"I wouldn't say it is, no. Thank you, Adam". A slight voice spoke, quietened in both respect and alarm.

"Thanking me?"

Grace assured. "Yes. You didn't have to tell me  _anything_. If you wanted, we could have sat here in solitude. This space, whilst a tad cramped is excellent at sifting out the world and its  _noise_. Choosing silence here  _rather_  than your apartment is good enough for me. You needn't come in here, spill open your mind, in regards to my job. Its nondescript here".

Emeralds took a pearly hue, now native emotion at the fore. The woman gave him time, looking at written notes.

Not at  _him_. Discomfort would be the least of his worries.

Not at the clock. This would _pressure_  him, 'hurry' him along when he ought to  _slow_  down.

That was why when Adam chose to _look_  at her,  ** _everything_**  drowned out, other than the thunderous thud of Grace's heart.

* * *

A box of tissues, unopened sat beside a mini stapler, zig-zag pattern merging if you squinted. Grace looked at the latter, then former.

"...".

At a loss as to what to say, lips thinned, cheeks sallow. Adam saw a  _ghost_  in here, and reverted to deer in headlights.

Though, Grace didn't see regression. She thought, perhaps Adam was seeing himself, facing the  _he_  of his past. He faced him, fearful,  _lost_.

"I had to face  _myself._  The past is gone. I can't go back. Not sure I would anymore".

Soft coughs accompanied the line, attempts to cover grunts men did when they were upset.

"I am not  _him_  anymore. I am  ** _me_**. Part of him lingers, like to think its a decent part".

Grace agreed.

"The old file told me of compassion, reason, the ability to understand other's perspectives  _without_  argument. Quiet when he wants to be, but not from idleness or callousness. I read and read again, Adam. I find most would rather read something once and misunderstand it, then read it over and _learn_  to understand it".

Grace gave Adam her notes, his name in blue lettering.

"I hope we can be on the same page, Adam. You got what you needed off your chest. I suspect more is on your shoulders, but you're handling it well. Atlas, of the modern day world. The sky won't always be  _blue_  above your head, but little rain clouds trickling water can help you see things clearer. The rain washes away dolor. Here. It is only right you see what I have written about you".

Adam nodded.

"Thanks, Grace".

Little victory was little, but there all the same.

He used her  _name_.

* * *

Hesitant eyes scanned lined paper, words scattering their letters like hockey pucks. Wiping his eyes, wet smears on his jacket not from his eyes. He sucked up, swallowing mucus.

An afterthought, words came out.

"She told me to stop, simply  _stop_ , as if its that easy".

"Delara?" Grace inquired, frowning. "'Stop feeling'?"

"I can turn augments on and off, but not what I _feel_. Fuck", he sighed, "how is that  _simple_?"

Grace sighed, shaking her head.

"It isn't. Don't ever believe you shouldn't  _feel_. Feeling makes you human. Yes, _human_ , Adam. If I thought you were a machine, I'd have given you some WD40 and sent you home".

Adam's eyes flickered, mouth torn between amusement and confusion. A smile was plucking his facial muscles, tugging lightly. Grace's knack for appropriate joking took him by surprise. He found he didn't mind it. It wasn't at _his_  expense. It was merely her pick chipping at his thick walls of ice.

"I, don't quite know what to say to that".

WD40 and the whiff it gave off made him grimace. The fluid he had to use in the shower to thoroughly scrub all over his augments smelled like someone had mixed chemical flowers to petrol. It clung to his skin, oily residue hanging around like a bad  _smell_.

More than once, conveniently placed tissues by his bed would be used to wipe slime off. The time it was under his chin, stuck to beard hairs, a snail trail made him  _balk_...

* * *

Grace fondly recalled a memory of the very product that disturbed Adam.

"A neighbour, like a Grandfather to me bought me a bike when I was six. I remember it squeaking after a while, and my Dad, new can of WD40 in hand, a mask on his face spraying it onto the chain. Only, he sprayed far  _too_  much, so much that the can spat droplets. He shook it and it flew everywhere, pelting his face with something you really shouldn't get in your lungs. Why he wore the mask, see. He wasn't as ditsy as he seemed. Not one drop got in his eyes though. Eyelids served their purpose well".

Taken from stupor, Adam coughed, shaking his head in amusement.

" _How_  do you do that?"

Grace narrowed her eyes, though mouth twitched playfully.

"Keep me  _off_  the defensive, keep me  _on_  the fence?"

"A hop would change that. If I can diffuse your anguish with silly tales of my own, I will. I also wish to be  _open_. Closing myself off isn't conducive. I speak to you about my life because I wish too. It appears you return that, of your _own_  accord. Seeing things as others see them isn't necessarily a bad thing. It can be", dare she say it, " ** _eye opening_** ".

Adam groaned, smacking his face. Grace laughed, at the expense of herself.

* * *

Ticking morphed into a single tock, the end of Adam's appointment.

"Okay. I believe we've made great progress here. Prague, other than its  ** _Police force_**  suits you well. It isn't as  _dark_  here, is it?"

Adam digressed.

"Detroit, whilst my home, it holds memories I'd sooner  _forget_. Here? I have a chance to make my _own_ ", his tone lowered, "even if it does mean I get the crap beaten out of me".

"About that", Grace took a punt, "do you think your nightmares  _stemmed_  from that? In both, you were wounded, alone, your mind conjuring up assistance,  _answers_  to long held questions, in the form of Vaclav in reality, and David in your mind?"

**_Right._ **

The agent got that, keeping that for when he  _tried_  to sleep again.

"Yeah, you're on to something there". Adam stood, straightening out his jacket. "Vaclav is free tomorrow, if you want to see him. I won't be there. Something's come up".

She could pull him up on what that  _something_  was.

* * *

"I would like that".

She didn't, the move likely  _grim_  in nature.

"I'll let him know".

Adam held out a hand, the first time he'd initiated contact. Grace shook it.

"Take the pad. Perhaps write notes of your own?  _Anything_ , whether you deem it trivial or not. It'll give me an inkling as to what is going on in your head".

Adam smirked, placing the notepad inside a jacket pocket.

"You don't  _want_  to know. And, if I told you everything...".

She didn't need the rest...

"You'd have to 'kill me'". She feigned irritated huff. "Can I at least make sure everything's backed up first?"

The agent grew amused.

"What, no 'I'm too young to die'?"

Now  _Grace_  snickered.

"I am not  _that_  young. Also, am I THAT obvious? Never thought I was  _predictable_...".

Adam opened the office door, throwing an over the shoulder glance.

"You're not, and that's  _good_ ".

He mumbled 'different' after leaving the room.

* * *

Grace set about taking everything with her before leaving the space. Sensitive information was just that. She took all precautions in keeping things 'hush hush'.

If Miller had anything _other_  than Adam's condition in mind, Delara's 'dismissal' from her given role could come back to  _haunt_  the psychologist.

* * *

Something foreign happened to Grace, everything is blur as she made her way back to the hotel.

 _Tears_? Slipping from corners, lashes wet as she blinked. Only saline, no  _sound_.

It was when she got back to her room the  _first_  sob came, bubbling, throat clenched. Unvoiced, silence not golden. Heavily  _rusted._

Who would hear her? Hear her plea, when she couldn't make a  _sound_?

Pity fuelled droplets fell down her face, mind frustrated that she  _pitied_  Adam, when she knew he'd  _abhor_  that.


	16. Red, Yellow, Green

Grace saw the sign for her stop and stood up, gleefully picking up her clutch bag, relishing the purse not being hefty for a change.

Looking for a shop named 'The Time Machine' wasn't too hard, considering the street it was on held nothing for the eye, except the sign for it.

Within ten minutes, she stood in the bookstore, the man she was here to meet standing before her, a kind grace about him. She took a few moments to study him.

* * *

For all intents and purposes, Koller looked like an ordinary man. Save for his hair that had Grace's hand fishing inside her purse, it hovering precariously above a  _comb_. His clothing looked to be a few decades old, far  _older_  than the man himself. Camel, sleeveless, studded shoulder jacket, with varying pins on it, and a red and black check shirt underneath, fabric snipped off for augmented arms. The woman estimated him at around thirty, in her head (not aloud, she'd only just met the man, and didn't wish to dissuade him) Adam hadn't given her much info on the man.

She wondered how much Adam had talked about _her_ , the thought banished to some far away space on Vaclav's very first words directed at her.

* * *

"Ah, Grace, ya? The gedankenleser".

Grace carefully weaved her way around wires, frayed ends not taped up.

"Yes, and, er, mind _something_?"

Vaclav looked amused at her confusion.

"I'll work that out later. In the meantime, I'll try not to  _die_. Quite a few hazards around here". She took a look around, eyes falling on the random assortment of kitchen units. "Grace, Grace Fielding".

She offered a hand, until oil slick fingers reached out. She found a fairly clean rag and handed it over. Koller _shook_  his head, shaking her hand anyway. Grace stared at her hand, mixture her head concocting an odd brew.

"Getting dirt under my nails already? Alright. Glad I know what footing I'm on here. I'll need that rag  _back_ ". Her boot caught on something long and thin as she took the square piece. "I don't even know what my feet are standing on right now, and I don't think I  _wish_  to know".

She smiled though, Vaclav's hint of cheekiness going down well.

"You look happy. I'd like to see more of that around here. Too much grey, everything is. Grey-scale. Not quite monochrome, but you are a colour. This place needs a splash of it, be it an artist's muse, for example".

"He was right".

The brunette blinked.

" _He_  means Adam. Right however?"

Curiosity was piqued.

"In that you speak very formally. Doctor speak, big words, complex sentence structure".

She huffed. "In all fairness, that is pretty spot on. Pleasure to meet you", she paused, "I have no idea how to pronounce your name, so, I apologise in advance if I say it incorrectly". She frowned. "Adam referred to you as a neuroplastic surgeon?" A nod was all she received. Almost, but somehow managing to resist the urge to raise a brow, she asked. "Okay. When did you meet Adam?"

"After the Růžička Station bombing. His eyesight was fuzzy, sound phased in and out. After adjusting the frequency of his retinal augs, we found out he has  _many_  more than first thought".

Grace let her eyes widen, not quite sure why anxiety gnawed, feasting on her gut.

"Bombing? Sorry", she sighed, weaving her  _clean_  hand through her locks, "I only arrived here two weeks ago. Not quite up to par with events. Please", she gestured with her hand, "continue".

"The list was very long, strange,  _unknown_  augs, things I want to tinker with, but, short of slicing him up, I have to stick with sighing, _thinking_ , sketching what I believe they are, listing what their functions are. His lungs, Redbreathers, are equipped to handle poison gas". Vaclav smiled, plaintive note catching Grace as peculiar. "That's a new one on me".

"Well, I wasn't planning on _spraying_  poison gas in Adam's face, but, the more you know! Also", the woman grimaced, "I wouldn't come at him with a  _scalpe_ l and a grin either personally. I bet that list is  _ridiculously_  long", she trailed off, seeing a kettle on top of a washing machine that via varying thickness threads kept the appliance from hitting the ground.

The universal 'Do you want something to drink' sign was utilised. Grace's finger automatically pointed to the box of tea. She then unwittingly nodded, throat parched from cold, dry air.

* * *

What she got was tea, which held a  _sheen_  she hadn't seen before. Not wanting to be rude, she took the cup, nodding her thanks. Trying to drink it when the mere touch scalded her lip, and the sheen creating bubbles that clearly were  _not_  tea was a challenge in of itself.

It took willpower honed over years in her field to put the cup down, occasionally appearing to take a sip.

It didn't  _smell_  of tea either...

Grace forced a smile, though the surgeons attitude, happy-go-lucky demeanour quickly turned that smile from fake to  _genuine_. She laughed upon seeing tubing going from one end of the room to the other. The room was a  _deathtrap_  that she, oddly felt _safe_  in. Not quite homely, but close to that.

* * *

A scuffling sound turned her head, Vaclav fiddling with some contraption in the background missing the noise, missing Adam strolling in.

When Grace saw him, she shrunk back, _guilt_  carmine flush and a wave of Beta causing the agent to want to walk back outside, return to see her smiling.

Was she  _ashamed_  to be happy in front of him? Was it wrong for her to be anything _but_  a doctor?

He stayed in the doorway, shadow cutting a sorrowful shadow. Shaking his head pinched, nerves pulled by an unseen force.

It wasn't truly  _unseen_.

It was worriment. Adam was distressed, with no apparent reason why.

* * *

_You **know**  why. Don't play the fool when others play their hands freely, openly._

_Only you wear a mask. You feel shame not for what you feel inside. You've accepted that. You feel upset because you've upset someone else, dragged them into your mud, treading it over their mind. Your tracks blotch her pristine piece of paper. You've made it grey, splotched it with your suffering. How can you ever beat your demons if you cannot fight past the most basic, obvious concept?_

* * *

The brunette didn't know  _that_  voice. It spoke truth, a sort of wisdom, the kind you didn't want to hear, but it forced you to listen. Inner demons weren't on his agenda. His radar, along with his arms needed looking over.

He decided he'd talk it over with Grace.

Just, not _now_. Now  _frightened_  him, a slice of fear given to a child. A _child_ , the child  _inside_  him, inside White Helix, prodded, poked into a corner.

If he couldn't think, that would be  _great_. He fought thinking by _thinking_ , making his fingers curl into a fist. He wished to punch the thing the slice came from.  _Obliterate_  it, shattering himself in the process.

* * *

He heard Grace  _laugh_. Not the sound of a doctor, the sound of the Grace infront of the letters of her doctorate.

And when she  _smiled_? For an instant, the beaming gesture eliminated tension in Adam's shoulders.

He could  _ignore_  the ache.

* * *

Grace saw heaviness, a weary body, dragged inside the secluded, hidden space only by his brain forcing limbs to  _move_. She tried jovial, but was shut down with a thousand yard stare. This one  _haunted_  her. She turned back to Koller, the surgeon's smile remaining. He looked at Adam like he was an  _ange_ l. Her brain gave her a horrid reminder, her stomach lurching. The word ' _Icarus_ ' lit up like a beacon, her head shaking visible sign of discomfort.

"Ah, wunderkind!"

* * *

_Wunderkind?_

"Wonder child?" Flummoxed, Grace shifted. "Adam?"

Adam moved around her, whiff of toffee tickling nose hairs much preferred to  _blood_. The sweet scent combated, overtook memories of nausea inducing iron, causing a shift in mood. He took a deep breath, vanilla calming him as routine nicotine inhalation would.

In those few seconds, Grace followed his movements like a  _deer_  in headlights, like he were a  _hawk_ , hovering above a vole.

He let out the breath, somewhat thankful for Koller's still  _cheerful_  face being there. If it wasn't a fixture, he feared Grace would  _bolt_.

Adam knew she was _frightened_ , no surgery done to him needed to see that. It was a  _personal_  thing, he was willing to bet the woman felt she couldn't be  _herself_  around  _him_.

She needed the proverbial clipboard, white coat, bags under her eyes but a friendly, warm smile there, for  _him_.

For  _his_  benefit. She was here for  _him_ , not herself. She had little to gain, had no ulterior motives. He had more ground here than she. It almost felt as if he held  _all_  the cards.

She only held the  _Joker_...

* * *

"Vaclav, can we talk for a second?"

Vaclav's face flitted worry, discomfort obvious.

"Sure sure, man".

Grace turned towards the door.

"Should I leave?"

Adam's face mirrored his friend's, pupils wild. He shook his head quickly, unwilling to tell her why she shouldn't leave. Someone he'd hoped to have foiled followed him to the shop, only staying outside on Otar's orders.

Vano was there to  _intimidate_ , not maim.

Not yet...

* * *

A sharp gasp pierced the silence, the men's head swivelling around in confusion.

"Wait", Grace paused, finger to her lips, "Reader!  _Reader_ ", she spun around to face Vaclav, "reader, right? I wouldn't say mind mind reader".

A large grin perturbed her.

"Geist Helfer?"

Grace accepted that.

"Helper? Yes, that fits my moniker. I'll wait here then, shall I?" She thought about adding the next bit carefully.

Very, very carefully...

* * *

"I mean, I have seen Adam's chest, but, I'm aware that his augments aren't only in his  _chest_. I'll look away and whistle. 'Whistle while you work'?"

Vaclav laughed, whistling that tune. Grace attempted it, her throat giving off pathetic hisses  _resembling_  notes. Adam let his guard drop, deeming a moment of amusement not too much of an ask.

If only that was what it was, he just needed 'tinkering with'.

No, it was far less straightforward than that.

What he needed to tell the surgeon held potentially horrific weight behind it, words falling from his lips after they left the room feeling heavy on his tongue. He swore he could hear the  _thud_ resonating as they hit the floor.

* * *

Otar said he _wouldn't_  harm Koller. He swore up and down he wouldn't, not when the latter had protection via the Dvali family. He had crossed paths with their leader Radich numerous times, not wishing to do it again.

He  _lied._  Vano being here meant he  ** _lied_**.

Adam was tired of lies.

He got what he needed out, swore he would  _protect_  his friend, and said he would stay there.

Vaclav was having none of that, explaining that, as a respectable man, Adam should  _not_  allow Grace to walk back to the train station  _alone_.

Adam protested, his cause _prominent_  in his brow. Vaclav protested, his case in his _locked jaw_  and set eyes. He would call Radich, sort out some protection whilst Adam was gone.

The agent relented, leaving the back room and an ally in unknown waters.

He could only hope the man could  _swim_.

* * *

Grace adjusted her mug for the  _eighth_  time, feet starting to hurt from standing too long. She had a sit down job, standing up for longer than a few hours hurt her ankles. She felt them burn, and  _not_ in the after exercise release of dopamine kind of way.

"Auf Wiedersehen mein clank".

Adam scoped outside, skulking past Grace. She didn't see his dour gait, she was preoccupied with what Vaclav had just called Adam. She liked nicknames and all, but,  _clank_?

"Adam?" She called after him. "Adam. Clank? What is that about?"

Koller waved, cheerful again, masking fear as well as a highly trained actor.

He wasn't winning any awards for his performance...

* * *

Adam walked back into the shop, nodding to Grace. If she thought his behaviour suspicious, she  _didn't_  show it. He had managed to get Vano to go back to his boss. How long for, he wasn't sure.

Again Grace took his mind off violence, straight onto humour.

"Clank? He called you ' _clank_ '?! I do not approve of that".

Adam smirked.

"I can  _see_  that".

The doctor's forehead crinkled, tone frustrated.

"Adam! And I thought we had a rapport. Apparently  _only_  in my head...".

The agent spun around, face bewildered.

"Where'd THAT come from? That sure as hell was _not_  'Doctor Grace'".

She sighed, pinching her nose.

"Every time we get somewhere, other people butt in, throwing their words in where they are not needed. I understand that its a  _joke_ , what 'mates call mates', but  _that_  word. Surely it's a bit harsh? They're insinuating that you're a  _robot_. Whether they meant it that way or not is increasingly relevant to me".

The agent retorted.

"It is  _irrelevant_  to me".

"I can't decide whether that's a good thing or not. Progress?"

Adam nodded, all seriousness aside.

" _Progress_ ".

The woman smiled, long held huff coming out.

"Good. That's really  _good_ ". She looked at him, keeping the friendly gesture. "You wished to  _stay_  there, I know".

Adam stopped keeping pace.

"That was a turn. What's going on with you? Where's 'Dr Grace' gone?"

The brunette shrugged.

"Eh, I am human too, Adam. I have a life  _outside_  of my work. I shouldn't be speaking like this to you. Should strictly remain 'Dr Grace'".

Sombre platitude washed over the man. Grace froze.

"You don't _get_  a  _life_  outside of work. I'm"...

"You don't need to apologise. Not gonna bite your head off". Adam walked next to her. "Your train will be leaving soon".

Grace sighed, hot breath visible like puffs from a cigarette.

Speaking of which, Adam lit one up.

"Good. I appreciate you  _letting_  me keep my head. In return, I shall not ask if you want another appointment. If you do, let me know. Its on _your_  terms, Adam", the woman gave a reassuring smile, "that's a  _promise_ ". The smile turned wry. "That sounded like you want  _rid_  of me. Am I  _that_  bad to be around? How  _terrible_  of me!"

Her 'acting' would have made most audiences boo, hiss, frown.

For Adam? It made him  _grin_.

* * *

" _Me_? Never".

Grace's cheeky head tilted, along with her shoulder moving up made the agent look at her quizzically.

"You are right, however. I should hurry along. Get back to Vaclav before I tell Frank, and he gets  _jealous_ ".

Adam snorted.

"Jealous?  _Frank_? You sure we know the ** _same_**  Frank?"

Grace walked onto her platform, just before the yellow line.

"He'll be  _Grinch_  green, I tell you. Cracking bottles in his teeth. Glass for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bleeding gums and a trip to, well, he  _wouldn't_  go. He'd put up with it. Spit it out, then drink some vile 'energy boosting' substance  _claiming_  to be helpful".

"You are _odd_ , you know that? I see why the two of you  _get along_  now".

"And I see why the two of you  _don't_ ". Grace teased, throwing him off. He  _hated_  not being able to best her.

Only  _one_  woman ever succeeded in doing that. And, as far as he was concerned, she no longer _existed_. He no longer cared if that was harsh or not.

* * *

"See you sometime, Adam". Small, a slight elegant voice hit Adam's ears. He perked up from the mind fog, offering a hand. Grace was taken aback by his _initiation_  of contact. She shook his hand tentatively.

"If I am intruding, _if_  there is a next time, do tell me, won't you?"

Her request went  _partially_  answered.

"You _didn't_ ".

The train arrived, Grace stepped on, Adam turned on his heel and walked back to the bookstore.

* * *

_No, it wasn't you who intruded, Grace._

He changed course.

_Otar..._


	17. Hallowed Be Thy Name

"Anything and nothing".

Grace said, as Adam sat down. He'd emailed her out of the blue, the place they used for appointments was occupied space now. So, Adam was here, in her apartment. Whilst it wasn't an ideal situation, it was the one they were in.

Not by choice. This was _her_  environment. She knew this, Adam could feel threatened, badgered if she spoke not as a psychologist but as an acquaintance. Here, it was  _easy_  to slip between the two.

Between the  _cracks_...

* * *

Bushy brows raised, forehead wrinkles prominent grooves.

"What? Don't you have a  _plan_?"

Grace returned a questioning brow.

"Did you  _ever_  have a plan?"

She half nodded.

"For the first _four_  sessions? Yes. The rest?  _No_ ".

Three words flashed before Adam's mind, sepia toned, as if he was trapped in an old film.

Only, this one was silent, his words would be on a black placard.

* * *

**_'For fuck's sake'._ **

* * *

He looked away, Grace clearly seeing the cogs frantically whirring away in the man's mind.

"For the sake of fucks, right?" He looked back up, face unreadable, though his hunched posture spoke of wanting to bolt. "Need the WD40 again? Hold on for just a minute".

The doctor rooted around in her bag,  _cursing_  her choice to bring a thick notepad, penned additions on how to pronounce Czech words, addresses, the odd note regarding Adam thrown in blue ink.

She had no idea why, but she associated the agent with hues of aquamarine.

She'd later work out that was due to Adam's eyes being blue  _prior_  to augmentation.

* * *

"There you are. Koller had some. He's an oddball, but one I certainly don't mind being in the company of. Just  _don't_  try the tea. Mine took on a black sheen that sadly put me  _off_  the warming brew".

Adam spied the can, saw humour in hazel orbs and damn near fought the urge to laugh.

He felt troubled, yes, but he'd talk about that.

_'Anything or nothing' huh..._

* * *

He put elbows on knees, staring into Grace's eyes intently, gauging her every move.

"If I tell you this, that means you're  _involved_ ".

"I was involved from the  _beginning_  Adam. May as well see it through till the end. You can tell me in confidence".

Adam blurted out what he must, lest his voice escape him.

* * *

"Otar Botkoveli, second-in-charge of the Dvali crime syndicate was after Koller. He feuded with the man above him, Radich Nikoladze, he protected Koller in exchange for maintenance of his augmented leg. Vaclav had me collect a neuroplasticity calibrator Otar had kept from him. Otar, of course wanted  _favours_  for the return of that. He had me trek through Golem City, to find a guy called Louis Gallois. He was supplying Radich with neuropozene. Otar then had him  _killed_  as a show,  _power-play_. Radich, in retaliation  _attacked_  him, therefore causing the pot to  _boil_  over. Radich had his men leave just before any  _real_  damage was done, a  _warning_  in return for the attack. I was contacted again, sent to The Red Queen, to form an alliance with it's owner, Máša Kadlek. Otar attempted on Vaclav's life. I found Dvali men in The Time Machine when I returned. I should have _stayed_ ", Adam set his jaw, "I knew I  _should_  have stayed. His right-hand man, Vano Shetekauri was outside. I thought I'd dissuaded him". He closed his eyes, grooves thick with restrained anguish. "You were an  _hour_  away from being taken. I just about stopped him from harming Koller. Otar lied about Radich, claiming he'd died in a ' _tragic accident_ ', so he could kill Koller with  _no_  consequences. Only, Radich found out  _immediately,_  and had Otar and Vano arrested. Last I heard, the three were screaming at one another. Koller is in a safe house, curtesy of Frank".

The man slunk back, shoulders low, a burden grave placed upon them.

"He looked utterly terrified. I've seen fear", a'la  _Panchaea_ , his 'oh so charming' brain added, "but, _that_? That was  _despair._  He shook violently, cold sweats, if he turned any paler, he'd hurl  _everything_ he'd eaten that week. I  _hate_  this, I hate what's going on. I was made to  _solve_  things like this, whether through violence or with words. I can't. I'm  _unable_  to do anything other than panic. Only, I can't show that. No", bitter irony fell from his mouth, rusted metal lining each, "I have to be the 'big man'".

Grace took some breaths as it sunk in. All this 'I'm the big man', "NO, _I'm_  the BIG man" talk made her yawn more times than if she were forced to house-sit a place, freshly painted, to make sure there wasn't any drips cascading onto bare floor...

"Okay. One, very important question".

Adam leaned in.

"How in blazes do I say ANY of those names? Spell them even?! My report is going to chock  _full_  of errors, it'll look like a blindfolded _child_  wrote it...".

* * *

She was back to form shortly after the small outburst, the seriousness of the situation sinking in, looming over her, its shadow vast.

She tilted her head.

"Are Otar's men after me?"

Adam nodded glumly, frustration clear. He'd gotten her _involved._

How could he  _not_  have?

How could he have done  _that_?

The woman sighed.

"I'm well aware I'm a civilian, I'm not about to take people out in a pencil skirt and with a clipboard. But, I'm  _here_ , I hope that counts for  _something_ ".

Grace fell quiet after that, wondering what in the actual hell she should do.

"They  _won't_  find you. They don't know where you are, Frank and I have made  _sure_  of that. Malik is on standby in case anything happens. We'll get you out of  _here_. Out of  _harms_  way. Radich knows _of_ you, not where you stay, but the general vicinity. He's aware, his presence  _is_  there, far after all of this dies down. It  _will_ , Otar wouldn't dare attempt another coup. I'm sorry, Grace. I can't express how  _terrible_  I feel".

Grace gave a reassuring smile, though her mind said otherwise.

_That's nice and all, but, Radich **failed**  to protect Koller..._

"You just did. It isn't  _your_  fault, Adam. Its _politics_ , they aren't ever pleasant. Only, in most parties, you don't see anything they don't want you too. You can't see their rotten insides if they cover it in glue, sprinkle it with  _glitter_. You can't polish a turd, after all". The woman's smile remained, a little defiance creeping in. "Anything I can do?"

His response made the woman's heart drop into her stomach. It then twisted uncomfortably, tossing the organ like a rag doll.

"Be  _yourself_. I can't  _stand_  two faced people, almost everyone I meet is. They tell me one thing, when, on the inside? They say the  _opposite_. They think I can't see it. I can. Don't need C.A.S.I.E,  _life_ taught me that lesson. Most people bullshit because they cannot bear the  _truth_ ".

"Adam, I haven't been anything  _but_  myself. Why would I ever bullshit you? And, yes, I know that a stereotype of my profession is that we lie, tell patients what they  _want_  to hear. Believe me when I say, Adam", her hand twitched, mind registering that she almost moved to touch him, "whomever has hurt you in the past, and now, I will _not_  participate in that. I won't project my experiences onto you".

He was getting somewhere. Adam knew he was chipping through the hardened steel barrier that was 'doctor' and getting through to the Grace _beneath_  it. Grace twigged, knowing  _full_  well what the man was trying to do.

The doctor wished to shut him down,  _block_  him out. Use an eraser to erase  _anything_  personal she had said to him.

However, she'd only written about  _him,_  not herself, nor transcribed their conversations.

Grace, the Grace beyond her title wanted to let herself  _out_  of the box, pop open the flaps, throw the eraser onto the floor and hope that Freud didn't  _eat_  it...

* * *

"I know next to nothing about your life".

Grace warred with herself.

"Adam, I can't tack that information onto what you've _just_  told me".

"Can we talk about something other than  _death_  then? Its raw enough, seen so much devastation, I'd rather talk about the fucking weather than that".

Grace tilted one corner of her lips upward.

"Eliza Cassan's brand of eye-shadow? Really ought to find that out. Mine always creases after a few hours", she trailed off, amused, "never good, especially when its a dark shade. Makes me look like I've  _angered_  a patient".

Adam smirked.

"Ever angered one  _that_  much?"

Grace nodded, to his chagrin.

"I have. Had a woman a few years back, cheating on her husband. She believed there wasn't an issue. Her husband and I  _disagreed_. I informed her she should take a step back, evaluate what and whom mean something to her, go from there. She stood up, moved to slap me. Her husband shot up, restrained her as she thrashed around. I exited the office, got security, they, in turn called the Police. Her poor husband had scratches  _all_  over his arms and face. He joined the practise a week after that, said he'd filed a restraining order and divorce papers". She sighed. "Never understood why someone who claims to love you would do such a thing. Harming someone is execrable. Someone, that you _care_  for?"

There was something after that that hung in the air. It thickened it,  _stirring_  the something all over the space.

Adam picked the very thing up Grace knew he would. She'd made the decision to _tell_  him. There was no shame, no harm done. Her 'love life' was  _far_  from what the man sat before her was.

No shame existed for her past.

So then,  _why_  did she feel it in her  _present_?

* * *

Dropping formalities, letting go, forcing though fresh cement whilst still wet, Grace pushed forward.

"Well, you know how I came to be in Detroit. About my parents, my studies", she paused, chuckling casually, "Sean?" Grace started. "Met him via a work colleague. He worked in sales,  _not_  the cold call kind. That would have bugged me  _no_  end. A little like Koller. Quite lighthearted, cheerful, a little dim however. Nearly  _killed_  my friends and I when he attempted to cook beef. It was still  _mooing_. I had to fix up something else, much to his frustration. A charmer, not traditional, which I prefer. Not too keen on men who's views are  _stuck_  in the 20th century. I understand women and men had their 'roles' for quite a number of years. However, I believe  _both_  can do those jobs, as long as they are  _willing_  and  _trained_ ".

The woman didn't expect a reply. She continued, clambering out of the pool of building material, building herself with  _memories_.

"I was nineteen, he twenty-one. We were together for eight years. I learned about men through him. I also learned what I  _like_  and  _dislike_  in the male of our species. I believe me becoming a psychologist was what split us. He began being impulsive, things in his life took a turn. I knew  _why_  he acted that way, but, when I merely asked if he was doing okay, he would  _snap_ , force me away from him. I'd always want to hold him after his outbursts, despite how they  _frightened_  me. The  _first_  few times. After that, I lost faith in  _myself_. My work life revolved around giving people the tools to  _rebuild_  their life, make dents in armour, chip away bricks from walls of defence constructed by pained minds, troubled thoughts. I couldn't  _help_  Sean, however. The one man I  _should_  have understood was the one who made his own path and strolled down it briskly", hazel melted a tad, reflective soreness upon biting her cheek, "so quickly, I  _couldn't_  keep up. He didn't  _want_  me too. I worked that out soon after. He wished to be away from me. Lectures, how he could 'fix' himself were not what he needed. He needed space when I wanted  _him_ ".

"Similar to Megan, in that regard. I believed I  _knew_  her, what I knew I adored. Charismatic, brains, eyes that could  _floor_  most men, demeanour that could ease even the most tense of atmospheres, headstrong, her own woman. She didn't need anyone, or  _anything_  to succeed. I believed she could _possibly_  need me. Somehow, I'd convinced myself that I could get beneath the initial  _stony_  exterior, see what softness I  _knew_  lay behind it. Only, it _wasn't_  soft. It was hardened  _steel,_  and I'm no  _miner_. I appear bold because if I didn't, I fear I'd be letting everyone who has aided me, given their  _life_ for me, spent their credits on  ** _me_  **down. I _needed_  Megan, she  _wanted_  me. That was  _too_  much to bear. I'd bore my soul to someone, I'd gazed into her abyss, I would have gladly followed her down it, no matter how it  _stung_  my insides. She iced over the warmth I wished to give her, till it was all but frozen  _solid_ ".

Adam grunted, masculinity stepping in to mask upset as mere sulking.

"I make her out to be ice queen, frigid,  _unloving_ , not a care in the world, other than for her work.  _Partly_  true, though, I cannot work out  _which_  part is and which is false. Perhaps I  _never_  knew her, I knew what I  _wished_  to see. I projected what I wanted onto her. I wanted meaningful love when she wanted physical love".

Grace paraphrased,  _reluctance_  the man exhibited clear on thoughts of intimacy. She hadn't  _planned_  on broaching the topic as of yet, however, Adam bringing it up hastened the therapy plans in her mind.

"She wanted sex when you wished to  _make love_?" Adam nodded, contrition superseding conniption. "You feel  _guilt,_  loss of that connection? I too, find solace in making love, not the concept of 'have sex for the sake of it'. My field isn't endocrinology, however, I understand that people do that because of hormones. If it makes them feel _good_ , why should I be in  _their_  bedroom,  _commenting_  on their habits? I did not wish to broach this, its personal beyond measure".

Adam's face dropped, and he waved her off as if he were swatting a fly. _This_  was why Grace chose to leave intimate connections well enough alone. Adam was virtually  _pouting_  like a toddler refused a lollipop. It outright caused  _fumes_  from stoked flames in her belly to rise up her throat, blowing hot air in his direction.

Not quite  _volcanic_ , but enough so as he'd _feel_  her anguish at his turn...

* * *

"I couldn't touch anyone with these  _hands_ ". The agent stared at them incredulous. "These have maimed, snapped a neck". The woman would be lying if she said her stomach  _didn't_  lurch, crawling painfully towards her bowel. Adam saw this, blurting out a _sort_  of apology.

_If_  you could apologise for killing people, that was.

"I didn't mean to _kill_  the guy. He was hunting  _children_  to experiment on, take off limbs,  _pump_  them full of anti-rejection medication. After what I'd been through as a kid, I couldn't stand to see  _another_  White Helix. They couldn't be allowed to resurface under  _any_  name, guise. He wouldn't stop  _laughing_ , so I strangled him. He stopped breathing, so I loosened my grip. As I went to put him down, I called the Police. Then came the  _crack_ , louder than a pop, a sound I don't want to hear again. I didn't  _mean_  to kill him, Grace".

"Then  _why_  are you concerned about your hands? You did not mean it, nor do I believe you would  _willingly_  hurt a woman, whether in a sexual setting or not".

"I  _wouldn't_ ", Adam growled, curling a fist, the other's knuckles dug into his cheek, "that's the point. Its not the strength that bothers me. Its the fact it's  _clear_  I am not entirely human. They're  _cold_ , ridged, gnarled. Not able to fully  _feel_  someone? What woman wants a guy who looks like Robocop caught on a bad day? A metal  _contraption_  unable to feel her skin when she takes a hand and places it upon her?"

Grace reconstructed her doctor shield in record time.

"Yes, because you are  _ugly_. A strange, strained mess of a 'man'. Nothing more than a billionaire's  _wet_  dream. That's what you  _want_  to hear, right?"

Adam drew back, huff impertinent.

"Fuck,  _Grace_!"

Grace  _didn't_  back down.

"Should I throw the dictionary at you? I could, I have  _several_  copies". She sat up straight, crossing a leg, linking her hands. "I also ordered a book on augmentation, how it affects people, effects society, the impact. From what I have seen in previews? They are  _incredible_  Adam. Who I see in front of me is no ' _Robocop on a bad day'_. No monster,  _nothing_  sinister. You are no villain. Society  _chooses_  to believe lies, poison itself. If they wish to drink from a poisoned chalice, simply because it  _doesn't_  strain their minds to do so, they  _will_ ".

The woman looked at her wall clock.

"Since this isn't technically an appointment, would you like to continue?"

Adam didn't reply. He sat, motionless on the couch for what felt like days, finding patterns in Grace's words.

Unable to use his voice, he used his eyes.

* * *

He watched _sunlight_  play with shadows, saw flecks of dust dancing around the room,  _Grace_ , in her kitchenette with kettle in hand.

Funny how his eyes led him straight to  _her_  when her living space was at least the same, if not slightly  _larger_  than his.

Freud skittering about the floor, skidding to a halt in front of him had him look down, frown turned upside down.

"He knows something's up"...

* * *

Grace remarked, as she moved across several overlapped carpets towards the couch, tea tray in her hands.

"I like to think he does, somewhat anyway. He gets as close as caninely possible to me when I'm unhappy. Also when I'm on my period, its as if he  _understands_  I'm not 100%".

Adam coughed, the woman's bluntness  _incredulous_  but rather humorous too.

"Tea?" A head shake garnered him a look. A look Frank had given him  _multiple_  times. A look that  _frightened_  him beyond measure.

_Off the fucking Richter scale..._

"I merely thought your  _six_  bottles at home would be enough, is all. I don't want to have to say _no_...".

Adam corrected.

"You just  _did_. Also,  _four_ ".

Hazel eyes squinted, eyebrows high.

"Well, I suppose two were half _empty_ ". She saw Adam's gaze turn sinister for a split second. "Don't. Sean and I disagreed on what term was _proper_  for liquids in glasses. I see you wish to argue. I _don't_ ". Grace picked up a teapot clad in lilac cotton. She wouldn't look at the man, knowing his face would be a picture of gloat, mirth, brows knitted.

_Knowing? Well, **there's**  a word. I sound confident too, as if its a given._

* * *

A little taken aback, Grace moved to pick up a teaspoon, fingers not quite curling around the metal implement.

"Sugar or cubes? Seems my faculties aren't at peak efficiency at this time".

Adam snorted, the sound making Grace titter.

"You've REALLY been around Frank  _too_  much".

"Ah, so, that's how I manage to get through to you. Frank uses subterfuge and big words, and I employ _both_  in my arsenal too". Her grin perturbed the agent. "Sneaky should be my middle name, eh?"

"At least the two of you don't use  _stalling_  tactics. Pisses me off".

Grace gestured towards the sugar again, cheekiness on her face, fluid ease in her limbs.

"At least go to the  _bathroom_. Civility, for the sake of my  _carpet_ ", she popped a cube into Adam's cup, "oh, and _wash_  your hands, won't you? Its simply vile when people  _don't_ ".

Adam smacked his forehead, if he hit it any harder, he'd leave  _palm_  prints...

* * *

"You really  _are_  female Frank".

Grace grinned wide, laughter echoing through the space,  _no_  attempt to cover it.

Adam hid his grin  _behind_  his cup...


	18. Starlight

"Ah, Grace. Good timing".

Grace walked through Adam's doorway, throwing a wave in the screen's direction.

"You know me, Frank. Time  _efficient_ ". She resisted the urge to pull her shirt collar down, push proverbial glasses up her nose.

Frank really ought to get what he must out of the way.

"Adam, Chiron got in touch. They are  _refusing_  to replace the mirror again".

What was animated earlier, Adam's features now  _flattened_ , speaking little. His arms were tense though, making fists, stressed balling. Grace saw through Frank's dour reaction. She looked at the tech, gesturing with her eyes towards Adam. Frank shook his head, knowing they should keep quiet.

He knew Adam's demeanour well, if either spoke, it would spook him into a corner. He communicated to the woman to keep still. Grace complied, instinct kicking in.

* * *

"The mirror?" Grace tilted her head with inquiry after a few minutes. "Why would it need replacing,  _again_ , I should add?"

Adam turned, fleeing the apartment, the woman straining her ears to hear quietened gasps of breath.

"Adam  _destroyed_  the first. The second was shatterproof glass, ended up littering the counter-top and floor. I should know, the crunch  _reverberated_  through his apartment as he sat, motionless on the couch, head in his hands".

Grace closed her eyes, unhappy at the man's reaction.

"Are there any mirrors here?" She looked around. "Any glass surface I can see is  _intact_. I also see, clocks? He makes them?"

"He repairs them".

"So, he worries about handling items but has no trouble using _tiny_  screwdrivers? If he is that dexterous, why does he _hate_  himself so? It can't just be because part of him is metal. It must run  _deeper_ ". She looked at her hands, placing them on her knees. "Has he said anything to you? Experienced nightmares or whatnot?"

"He wouldn't, not to me".

Grace reasoned, insides torn like sheets of paper in fits of anguish.

"Malik? There must be something he isn't tell me". She backtracked. "Us.  _Us_ ". She sat down, hands skimming through hair roughly. Alien (not so much now) swallowed sobs she tried to hide as coughs left her mouth.

* * *

And then, Frank saw it.  _Unmistakable_  in tear stained eyes, blotched cheeks. As the water dripped onto her pants, the man realised she felt much more than she was willing to admit. Her eyes gave it away though, what was true in a world full of untruths.

"There's doing your job well, then doing it _too_  well, Grace".

Frank said quietly, not wishing to disturb. Perhaps the woman was oblivious to what he'd just said, or chose to ignore it.

"This isn't  _doctor_ , is it?"

"How  _far_  has it gotten?"

"Far enough that I fear if I blink, it'll all disappear. I  _fear,_  Frank. Its clasping my heart, fingers around my chest, enclosing my arms. I fear I can't move away, that claws will pierce flesh, tearing my chest apart". Grace stood abruptly, unstable, not focusing on her surroundings. "This isn't okay. Why can't things just be _okay_  for once?" She ran her hands through her hair, every knot bothering her no end. "What's  _wrong_  with me?" She turned a few times. "You can get me _out_  of here, right? Adam _told_  me that".

Frank nodded. "I doubt Adam will return to Detroit, too much pain here. Its hidden from most, but, Adam has seen it, experienced it. Its there, clad in  _shadows_ ".

"And Adam blends into it  _perfectly_ , he's learned to embrace the blackness". Her look gave the tech chills. "Am I trying to bring him into the world's  _light_? No", she spat sourness, " _my_  light. Who the  _hell_  do I think I am?! Why the fuck do I even  _entertain_  the idea? Oh, by Freud's ears, I am lost. I'm lost all over again, when I thought I had the paths _figured_  out".

"Paths are rarely linear, if they were, life would be a  _cinch_ ".

Grace closed her eyes.

"Cinch, cliche, inspiring, but the idea, the concept is flawed. Life is _flawed_. Simplicity  _wouldn't_  comfort us. We'd soon grow bored, yawn our way through days, monotonous haze".

"You don't have to speak to me like that, that's the  _doctor_  talking when  _Grace_  ought too". The tech waved his hands dismissively. " _Drop_  the pretence".

"Pretence keeps me  _behind_  the line. There are  _lines_  for a reason Frank. What if the lines are ever _thinning_?"

She dropped her hands meekly, plopping herself down, willing herself to think.

* * *

Adam had inadvertently _flipped_  the proverbial hourglass. Professional grains ran  _through_  her fingers, replaced with  _heaving_  air, glass _clouding_  over. Grace looked at the grains as if they were flecks of rust, chipping off her  _moniker_  before her. Her term felt lead weight, the woman found her hands shaking from carrying it, torn between letting it  _fall_  to the floor or hauling it back into the furthest corner of her mind, dusting off excess bronze.

* * *

Adam was like  _Spring_ , chills fading, taken away by still, soothing winds, easy on her skin, enjoyable on the long walks she used to take. She couldn't recall why she'd stopped walking, it helped negativity evaporate, morning crispness easing worries.

Ah,  _work_. She  _had_  to work, her mornings taken up with travel, passengers ignoring one another, much to her chagrin. Whilst not wanting elegant poetics, she was one for small talk. Not conjecture, but something _real_. The world around them was real, there were people with stories all around. Why _ignore_  that? When did people become so  _callous_?

* * *

Attitude much calmer than first appearance, Spring mellowed Grace, her dislike for Winter _infamous_  in the practise. She would bundle herself up like an Inuit, skin still snow pale until she had her first cup of sweet morning Joe. Human, she felt  _human_  as she swallowed caffeine fire, warming her belly. Grace flinched, looking at Frank, the man's features quite _obviously_  studying her.

_Human. Adam doesn't feel human, though he does believe it._

Did he help Grace feel _human_?

Yes.

Was she asking  _and_  answering her own questions only in her head?

Yes.

* * *

Adam  _mellowed_  Grace, towards the end of the season, wafting pleasant scents taking troubles away. Clearing the  _fog_  of colder months, creating a Grace at  _peace_  with herself, one with nature, all its beauty viewed. Adam helped her see the varying degrees of  _life_ , all its angles, tilts, axis. She's heard much in her career, witnessed peril, slabs of rot stinking up her office, via  _drunk_  clients made homeless. Part of her felt horrendous, her heart yanked, pulled about unpleasantly. Feeling unwell was commonplace, the answer to most problems _not_  want the client wanted to hear. The remedies she provided she'd brew over  _time_ , time wasn't a luxury. They wanted it there  _and_  now, waiting wasn't what they 'signed' up for.

It  _wasn't_  Grace's fault that some lacked patience. She could help  _if_  they gave her opportunity as well as time. Adam reluctantly gave her the former, and, almost as reluctantly gave her the latter. She appreciated those more than her vocabulary would _currently_  allow.

She'd have to  _tell_  him that, thank him, yet  _again_.

Unless, Frank's subject had blown  _any_  chance of her seeing the troubled agent again.

If she had to wade through  _decades_  of mud to reach Adam's heart, she would.

* * *

Grace blinked from stupor.

" _Tell_  me to stop".

Frank shook his head.

"Tell _yourself_  to".

"I can't!" Grace retorted. "Not used to feelings coming into play. When did that become a  _thing_?"

" _You_  tell me".

"When he smiled, ** _really_  **smiled, I believed it was the doctor inside me that felt joy. It was honest,  _raw_. I wasn't very honest with  _myself_  however. The joy lay beneath the layers of training. I felt joy as a _person_. Is it  _terrible_  to feel that way? Should I distance myself? Be unfeeling, throw him aside whilst telling him nonsense, all for the sake of _credits_? I can't, Frank", she sniffled, taking a pack of tissues from her purse, "I simply  _can't_ , not when I think, and I end up moved. His progress is utterly brilliant. Little slip ups? Yes, but he's able to get  _past_  them. Tell me I'm wrong to feel this way, and"...

Frank sighed. "And  _what_? You'll  _cease_  this folly? Adam isn't of sound mind to act as he did with  _Megan_ ".

Grace rolled her eyes.

"I'm not asking for him to  _care_ , Frank. Seriously", she hit her forehead, "don't put  _words_  into my mouth. Do I have to shove a dictionary in front of  _you_  too?"

"Speak to Adam yourself, speaking to me  _won't_  give you the replies you seek. He's on his way  _back_. He pinged me".

Hazels widened. "Fuck". She stood for a second time, much steadier. She ambled over to a door, not knowing which was the bathroom.

"I bet I look like shit".

* * *

When she located the bathroom, it  _confirmed_  her fears.

"Right". She sniffed, wiping tears from under her lashes. "Sort yourself out, woman. Sorry, Frank".

She popped her head round the door. Frank smirked.

"So much for  _decorum_ ".

Grace returned the smirk.

"I  _dropped_  the pretence, didn't I? I  _needed_  too. Needed that moment".

She looked into the mirror, untying her hair, holding the band in her hand curiously.

"Should I leave it up or down?"

Frank squinted. The woman wore a  _knowing_  grin.

"There  _is_  a difference, you know. Guys tend not to notice that". She wiped her eyes carefully, catching drips and losing a few eyelashes with each swipe. "Well, techs don't. Unless I put in some sort of _code_ , there's no way you'd understand. Funny", she left her hair down, combing a tad, "something you don't  _fully_  understand. Simultaneously worry yet hilarious. Excuse me if I  _giggle_ ".

The intact reflective surface made the woman smile, the thought of earlier conversation taking her at the last second.

* * *

" _Down_ ", the tech's tenacity shone out, his voice firm, "down accentuates your features".

"My slight _vanity_  thanks you". She left the bathroom once she deemed herself decent. " _Adam_  does too. Right, bugger off, you. If Adam and I are to talk, we ought to in private. Thanks for listening". Grace made her way to the screen. "I am _indebted_ ".

"Don't". Frank's confidence died quickly...

"Heh. You know I  _love_  you really".

"If you're trying to get  _rid_  of me"...

Grace finished his sentence.

"It's  _working_? Excellent". She rubbed her hands together. "Talk soon".

She gave an earnest smile, pottering into the kitchen to brew some coffee.

* * *

Grace got onto tiptoes, grabbing some mugs. Britishness be damned. Bold coffee was what she needed, not soothing herbal brews.

Something with  _strength_ , give her the backbone to talk to Adam about what, somehow, she could speak to Frank about, despite him being much more  _provincial_  than both herself and Adam  _combined_.

She _could_  talk, right?

_Might need something stronger than coffee..._

* * *

Plonking herself back down onto the couch, she heard the door open, immediately  _cursing_  herself upon eyes watering.

_Definitely stronger than coffee, not too much to put me on my arse._

_I do not have this._

_Fuck._

Doctor Grace needed to stroll in. She _would_  have done, only, no _appointment_  was made, no allotted time given.

She was on her  _own_...


	19. Starbright

Adam's head hurt, pulses in time with the beats against his rib cage. Bracing winds smacked the wind out of him as soon as he left the hotel. Picking random roads, he turned off his comm before walking. He's wasn't in any mood to speak, only pound the gravel until his fists bled.

They couldn't bleed, he knew this.

What?

He  _knew_  that. So, why was he entertaining the thought?

Did Grace  _not_  see what took him, threw him about like he weighed nothing? Could she not  _see_  it?  _How?!_  The force would have smacked him against the wall had he not fled, sprinting down corridors like an athlete.

* * *

Adam had inadvertently flipped the proverbial hourglass, sand trickling steadily down like a leaky faucet. But they found  _grooves_  in Adam's hands, and stayed there stubbornly, no matter how many times he shook them. He could grab a wrench, tighten the nut under the tap,  _cease_  the dripping, sound raising hackles in him. It was an easy fix,  _too_  simple. His breath fogged up the glass, forcing him to squint to witness his mind run away from his grasp. It took  _more_  than adamant courage to say he was 'fine' this time.

* * *

Grace was like Autumn. Cool, collected, a little  _flight_  to her, in no way someone who came off too blase. Her mood was stable, colours warm palette,  _complimenting_  bronze in her hair, liquid brown in her eyes, earthy, her feet were on the  _ground_. Leaves cascaded in soft whirls of wind, yet, Grace did not crunch them underfoot, she stepped _over_  them, in her wake gold, amber glittering via rays of errant sunlight.

Grace was errant rays, she warmed him when his soul  _iced_  over.

When his faith in himself waned, her warmth  _eased_  self burdens.

She was natural,  _herself_  with him, no qualms of sitting in prone silence as he wallowed mutely. Grace _knew_  he wallowed, never once calling him out, labelling his strain as 'dramatic', his flair for it not brought up.

It wasn't his flair, dramatic followed him, an all too faithful  _fiend_.

* * *

How? When? What, where? Singular phrases bobbed up and down, waves spilling over the land that was his mind. He wished to sit, but grew restless quickly. He wished to walk, but felt bone tired, occasional phantom stabs reminding the agent that. despite his 'enhanced' body, he was still, at heart a man.

That struck him. Off balance, he jumped at _shadows_ , anxiety slapping him, proverbial 'duh' imminent.

He stopped, focusing on answers, giving himself time to process the words needed to create the sentences necessary.

* * *

_How_? Grace disarmed him, knew which wires to snip, which to avoid like aphoristic plague.

_When_? The woman was able to  _process_  his words, words he chose carefully. He hadn't intended on getting her _involved_  in his misgivings, but she handled them well. She was sturdy when he  _wasn't_. He hadn't lent against her per-say.

Not  _physically_  anyway.

Mentally? Grace was a pillar, one his acerbic wit attempted to chip away at hadn't done much other than cause surface damage.

* * *

_What?_  Adam wasn't sure about what he was thinking. However, it didn't upset him, thoughts of Grace acted as a balm of sorts.

What? What in Frank's obsession with energy drinks was he thinking of?

_Grace_ , he corrected,  _confirmed,_   _Grace_...

* * *

_Where_? No matter where he attended appointments, Grace's delicate simper cheered him, sheer cold metal encased in his ribs melting, now a molten core. Somehow, she  _shielded_  him from himself, took Adam away from harsh uncertainty, the Adam resenting all away from yearning, mindful,  _optimistic_  Adam.

* * *

Where? Grace let him into  _her_  world, whilst helping him _open_  the door to his world.

There were a thousand reasons he  _should_  run.

There were a  _million_  why he should _stay_.

Running  _hurt_ , inside and out, wrenching his stomach out his mouth, laying his heart bare, on his sleeve.

If only he rolled them up, let Grace  _see_  it for all it was worth.

It  _wasn't_  black, nor seething. It lay inside a man,  _desperate_  for companionship from someone who would  _gladly_  return it.

No games, no lies, nothing that tore him to shreds.

Grace held a needle and thread, she'd _sew_  him back up.

* * *

_Soppy bastard_...his mind added, making him chuckle.

_I've hurt her many times, yet, she kept it together._

Did she cry over  _him_? That stung his brain, headache letting him know it was on its way. Sentinel kicked in, effectively shutting down the throb.

Was it  _that_? Was it  _Grace_? Did she effect somehow him from far away?

_Don't cry over me. Please, I can't bear that. You must focus on yourself before others. That's not selfish. You out everyone before yourself, there's only so long you can do that before it opens a rift inside you, one you cannot fill. A void consisting of self destruction._

He  _sounded_  like Grace, laughing again. One thing remained though.

Was he telling  _himself_  this, Grace or both?

He'd needed to get back to his apartment, apologise for hastily beating a retreat. It was his home, not a bombsite. Nothing dangerous lay there.

Only despair he crafted all by himself, he  _believed_  that was there.

It wasn't. It was  _all_  in his head. Grace wasn't. She was right there,  _before_  him, eyes on his, little sign of letting his discomfort bother her.

She had a  _job_  to do, yes.

However, she did far more than heal old battle scars. Adam  _needed_  her to know that. That meant he had to return, he must speak up, let her know this fact.

_Fact?_

_Yes_ , Adam affirmed, a ** _fact_**.

* * *

The man turned on his heel, making his way back to home turf. He had much to discuss with the uplifting doctor beyond his front door, in his living room.

He could only hope she remained there, that he hadn't  _scared_  her off.

He closed his eyes, stepping onto the train, quickening his arrival.

_She'll listen, I know she will._

What did he want her to say in  _return_?  _Should_  she speak? Should she _dare_  speak to him as more than her title?

Adam reigned himself in.

_Whatever happens happens, whatever uttered is uttered._

He could only hope Grace could forgive his attitude, see through the 'tough man'.

But, he knew. He _knew_  she already did. She saw _through_  him like a pristine, polished mirror.

Adam was unsure whether or not he _enjoyed_  that. Grace opened his memoirs, he became an _open_  book.

He badly needed to be read, Grace had to know his side of things. Flip the coin s _o his_  face was up.

He tired of looking at the  _ground_ , when all the woman (who threw him into flux) wanted to do was see him as he _truly_  was. View all he was inside  _and_  out.

* * *

Adam stepped off the train, destination as clear as day.

Taking control of his life felt much lighter than he thought it would. The proverbial ball in his court was in his hand. He would offer it to Grace, a  _strange_  alternative to an 'olive branch', but one all the same.

It was up to  _Grace_  whether she held the sphere, offered it to Freud, or threw it in his _face_.

He  _wouldn't_  blame her if it were the latter. Likely the first, then second options. She'd _study_  him, as though he were jewelled facet, not a contraption. A mish-mash of flesh, bone and metal.

* * *

The elevator ride up held  _promise,_  Adam held onto that with his free hand.

Could he say  _anything_  he thought prior? Would he be tongue-tied? His stomach wrung in knots?

He let out an even breath, opening the door slowly.

* * *

Grace's puffy face greeted him. His heart leapt into his throat, hesitance reared its ugly head. Adam  _persevered_ , taking the brave step forward, over the threshold.

The  _first_  step?


	20. Comings And Goings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally edited this properly, I feel dumb for actually missing the 'Rich Text' button...

Grace looked up, meeting Adam's dark visage.

"Evening", she said slowly, low, "its...its  _good_  to see you".

He swallowed, throat bob giving away hesitance.

"Its good to be back".

Adam enunciated,  _believing_  that more and more with each word.

"Coffee?" The woman sucked in a controlled mouthful of dry air. "Its a little late", eight pm, to be exact, "and I usually don't drink caffeine after six".

"Then  _don't_ ". Adam headed towards the kitchen. Grace shot up, her head shaking taking his attention.

"I'd much prefer this to go  _smoothly_ ", she pointed to the stack of bottles, "though, they _too_ , would go down smoothly".

Pun unintended, her head added, much to her dismay. Adam's C.A.S.I.E registered her reaction. In response, he picked up creamer, turning and holding it, shaking it with a look of successful trickery.

Grace merely laughed...

* * *

"You know how you like your coffee".

The woman's tone flared Beta, blinding his retinal augs a tad. She was mortified at making errors with him, she was  _placating_  him.

Or, so  _she_  thought. It merely bugged him. She could handle him, she'd  _proven_  that. To see her regress caused him to squint.

Grace, in repose put up her hands, sighing discontentedly.

"So do you. Grace". Adam said her name cautiously. "Look at me". She did, brow arched. "I am  _not_  leaving here. I won't get angry. It isn't you that frustrated me. Its the  _past_ ".

The woman nodded, relaxing her face.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather talk about here and now. The  _hell_  is going on?"

Pupils thinned, Grace wasn't sure which action was appropriate.

* * *

" _When_?"

Grace's digestive system did a 180.

" _Which_  Grace do you wish to answer you? Doctor or acquaintance?"

"Neither. Grace as a  _friend_ ".

"Well now,  _there's_  a word". She huffed a laugh. "Okay. Didn't wish to use that term".

"In case it freaked me out?"

"I'd have said if it was personal, not conducive to therapy, but, this is personal now".

The woman took a steadying breath.

"The first time you smiled,  _truly_  smiled, I felt happy. At the time, I would have said that was _Doctor_  Grace who felt that. The Time Machine changed that. When you saw me truly happy, and I saw you,  _guilt_  filled me. Your appearance was that of someone who looked to have crawled through all nine circles of  _Hell_ ".

"Thanks". Adam threw out there, amused smirk playing.

"I did smell  _burnt_  fabric, you know. And, since Koller is a veritable oil slick, and I'd had a shower, used deodorant and perfume, I knew it couldn't possibly be me".

Adam took on the role of councillor, Grace his study.

"You felt trapped? Between me, the street behind me?"

"No. It felt more like I'd trapped  _myself_ , the cables on the ground likely did ensnare me, but", she paused, "it was clear something had gone wrong. I felt great because I was around a bubbly chap, but you were not. Looked like you'd  _pop_  the bubbles. I know", she waved her hands, "I'm using metaphors again, aren't I?"

Adam skimmed over that.

"That's your  _defence_  mechanism. Mine is silence, whilst yours is obligatory phrases to make people  _think_. It does take my mind off what haunts me".

Grace welcomed that.

"I've noted that with quite a few of my male patients. They fall silent, when women blurt out what ails them. Its societal, sadly. I could talk till the cows come home about trivial matters. Yet, when men try? They are  _bullied_  into reticence, told to 'man up'. Only women are  _allowed_  to feel. Is it right to teach the men of today to only feel hatred and anger? Surely that'll only breed contempt?"

Adam couldn't resist.

"You're doing it  _again_ ".

Grace pursed her lips.

"And you're being _fractious_ ".

"Fractious? Been reading the very same dictionary you reckoned you'd throw at me, have you?"

Grace scolded herself for saying that.

"Throwing the book at someone is law, and, as I do not have any want to change my career to that of a lawyer, I suggest we speak on what you came  _here_  to say. You came here to let me  _hear_  your voice, didn't you?" Grace poured the coffees, pushing Adam's and the creamer towards the agent after making hers.

A song played in her head as Adam started, his words echoing the lyrics.

Grace listened to Adam. As far as she was concerned, his was the  _only_  voice in the entirety of Prague this moment. Everyone else, the cities sounds would be drowned out, by  _one_  man's outpouring of heart.

* * *

"I had a nightmare, two months back. I'd just come out of surgery, but was in my apartment in the dream. I saw my reflection, what I saw wasn't  _me_. It  _wasn't_. I was covered in gauze, blood crusted around augment fusion, stuck to my chest like glue. The whole despising what it showed me what I was began then  _and_  there".

"Hence when Frank spoke of it, the past raised its weary head. I  _shouldn't_  have enquired".

"No", Adam took his cup, drinking deeply, boiling water coiling patterns on his tongue, "that  _is_  part of your resumé".

"It is part and parcel, yes. Still, I shouldn't have spoken. You've let me know what is wrong, until this". Her head span. "Do you blame  _yourself_  for the nightmares about your body, or David?"

" _Sarif_ , to begin with. Now, I don't _really_  know. I no longer believe he did this to maim me. However, I can't wrap my head around why he did  _any_  of it. He could have let me die".

"Could is better than  _should_. I would have to speak with him, gauge his reactions, opinions and such". She went for it, since Adam looked to be revealing much, digging deep. "Do you think if you had been allowed to _die_ , things would be any better? They'd certainly be  _different_ ".

"Better?  _No_. Different? Yeah. If I wasn't here, would any of what's happening have happened? Would Sarif have found someone  _else_  to experiment on? Who would have rescued Megan, her team? Would the people who drowned be  _alive?_ " The man shuddered, some trembling, rambling forms wracked with debilitating pulses he sprinted past would  _not_  have survived, regardless.

* * *

"Adam?" The woman asked, respectfully quiet. "I cannot speak for your past. I can for  _now_ , however. The man before me? He had to learn through life's  _negative_  aspects, he became one with  _shadows_ , clinging, knowing all pockets of pitch darkness, remain unseen, mass-less. He'd rather stay an  _enigma_ , in lieu of public scrutiny. Your heart is in the right place, its steadfast, your  _morals_ steadfast, empathetic, trusting in literal sense only when you see someone's  _true_  face. Those people are few and far between, between bright lights, making city-scapes glitter, its glow veiling secretive deals, lives being snuffed out, pettiness the cause, correlation between it and the actual reason _forfeit_. You are bold. not  _too_  robust, the walls put up aren't made of solid steel, but of  _clay_. It gives outward appearance of metal. You give off stone in  _spades_ , those implements unsteady. Those given the chance to peer around the barrier have only given you more clay, handfuls to be moulded into bricks. Quickly, efficiently".

Grace halted. " _She's_  back again". Light wispy breath left her, impatience the cause. "Impertinent". She cleared up her things. "A spade's a  _spade_ , Adam. You've been able to chip away at the wall lightly, chunks would be too much. No fist, slamming against it, ripping out  _chunks_  of grey mass, squelching in hands  _not_  your own. Graphic", Grace let that word slip off her tongue like jelly, slowly, effect  _paramount_ , "that's what permeates what you do. Everything you do  _has_  to be correct, truths backing it, propping up righteousness, an indecisive  _ally_  in times of need".

She took a sip of coffee, milk moustache just about dealt with, via tongue, tied to negative buoys, the liquid keeping it afloat.

"My degrees aside?" The woman's eyes offered  _enduring_  altruism. "I see you as bold, character kind, an ally to most. You give them a  _wall_ , when they need to _lean_ , a  _shoulder_ , when they need to  _cry_ , an  _ear,_  when they need to  _vent_. And, yet, you become your  _own_  shield, and I am _not_  talking about your augments, when you ought to find something lasting. Permanent is  _heavy_ , for now. That word shall not be used here".

Grace's magnanimity shone through shadows cast by Adam himself. His darkness  _failed_  to permeate her beams.

Even her skin  _gleamed_ , cream rose, splotched with freckles that the man found ambrosial.

Around her? Adam saw the world not as black and white, but with  _colour,_  spectrum vibrant.

Not everything carried soothing hues, most carried sombre splashes of ink.

He was okay with that, the man holding no qualms, when what he saw was the truth of the world, its  _heart_.

Its heart may have held indigo, but certain  _people_  threw orange into that mix, sunshine bright  _piercing_  the nebulous organ.

* * *

Grace rubbed her hands together.

"Take heed that you, too, are  _allowed_  to lean, laugh, think,  _feel_. Use that fast mind of yours to create a slice of peace, tranquillity, just for you. A space for  _quiet_  comfort. Without vice", she added, voice changing pitch, in warning?

"Don't get drunk, act like everything's  _fine_. Got it".

Grace sighed, eyes sudden daggers.

"Adam.  _Don't_  regress".

Adam waving his hands stressed her even more than she thought she _could_  go, the line drawn further up than she knew.

"Did you listen to  _anything_  I said just now?"

Adam returned the intense glare.

"Did you listen to what  _I_  said?" He shook his head dismissively. "Thought not".

"Okay", Grace relented, "fine. What do you  _want_  to know?"

The spears Adam's emerald hues gave off? Their tips pressed against the woman's heart,  _pressuring_  the organ for specifics.

"What you  _really_  feel".

"What you  _want_  to hear, you mean? You can cease using those  _eyes_  against me too. I don't much like being poked by intensity". She tilted her head, strands of brown billowing over her shoulders. "What lays the  _foundation_  there?"

She closed her eyes, unable to face Adam's gaze. The intensity, her part was internal,  _melting_  her insides. It  _wasn't_  obvious to her, so wouldn't be to  _Adam_ , would it?

* * *

Wrong, quite  _wrong_. Pink  _oozed_  from Grace's cheeks, blooming roses were both ears and nose afterwards. Adam raised a brow, heart slamming against his chest, it thew itself back and forth to the point where it hurt to swallow.

Was this what he  _thought_  it was? Was this moment hearkening back to the first time a girl told him she had _feelings_  for him? Going so far as using the 'L' word?

Adam felt sick, failing to distinguish whether or not from fear or avid curiosity.

It  _caught_  up to the cat, but did not _harm_  it.

Grace put out her hand, beckoning the animal over, before respectfully letting it sniff her hand, deeming her a  _good_  person, ultimately letting her pet it.

She found the spot behind its ears, the cat purring away contentedly.

Adam's fonder thoughts took him back to his adopted Mum, threading her hand through his hair when he couldn't sleep. It lulled him.

 _Grace_  lulled him.

Into a  _false_  sense of security?...

* * *

She said it. She actually came _out_  with it. Adam's heart stopped thudding, its beat now melodic in his ears, blood thrumming, all senses trained on _Grace_.

"If you must know... _yes_. I do harbour  _feelings_  for you. Though not entirely sure on what those are, as of yet, they go  _beyond_  doctor-patient confidentiality"...

She  _stopped_. Adam's daggers melted into pools of mirth. He  _didn't_  want her to stop talking. Rolling his hands would come off as rude, the man practically having to sit on them to resist the urge...

* * *

"Something about the way you  _carry_  yourself", she continued, Adam letting out breath he'd kept in for what felt like an hour, "the way you  _think_. It is unlike many I meet. You  _genuinely_  care for others. I see it in your eyes, your mannerisms. How you speak with Malik? Even  _Frank_?  _Deep_  seated respect lies there, a continuous, defined rope that you cast out, when someone  _needs_  it. You respect me,  _past_  the job, that doesn't come into play. You see me underneath the suits", her wording made her snort, "my notes aren't all observations based on you as a  _patient_ , I will say that much".

Adam, intrigued really wanted to see those  _notes_...

"I deeply respect you as a  _person_ , not a 'weapon' or an 'agent'. I do not place you upon anything or anyone you do not wish to be. I, I believe I see the man before the tragic incident. Adam, not  _Adam 2.0_. Sounds like an  _anime_...".

"Anime?"  _There_  was Grace, right there. Adam felt privileged to view the woman as _herself_. The doctor had left the apartment, she was no longer in.

* * *

"You don't have to say anything". Adam's silence drove Grace to say that, cover her backside. "Glad  _I_  said it". She smiled earnestly. "You are a great  _listener_ ". She rummaged around in her purse, appointment cards supposed to be together, tied with a rubber band.

Damned if she could _find_  the band, the blasted thing had seemingly vanished, taking the cards  _with_  it.

She used the rustles she made, and the fading light to her advantage to cover the flaps of butterflies in her stomach. Their wings fluttered pleasantly, decorating her face with pretty pastel coral, her pupils, in dim light growing.

If she could make herself believe Adam  _couldn't_  see her, then Adam couldn't  _see_  her, right?

 _Rationale_  knew he could, impish glee  _hoped_  he could...

Grace was good with words, using her mind.

Words of the heart? A  _whole_  other kettle of fish.

* * *

Adam unfolded his arms, sitting up straight, Grace his only focus, his  _prime_  directive. No one asked him to watch observe her, protect her.

But, he'd accept the job, if he'd been given it. He'd have be all too happy too, looking back on it.

Now, he'd sit, grateful to observe someone _not_  about to die, or be maimed...

* * *

When Grace thought up an idea, her ears would move  _upward_ , the tips a tad pointed.

When Grace looked at her notepad? Her pen would hover above, hand  _poised_ , mind wondering what to write. The gears in her head would turn, she'd tilt her head,  _ever_  inquisitive as she looked at him. That would switch to polite wonderment as she gave hazelnut softness mixed with green sharpness. The green would reflexively  _spark_  up when the man frustrated her. This both exhilarated and clutched him, almost as if Grace was unsure how to handle him.

She was, at _first._  Adam was a bomb, diffused  _multiple_  times, but always had a fail-safe, which would kick in after the person who attempted to uncoil his crossed wires, put them in the positions they reckoned they _should_  be in messed it up, unscrewed too many nuts in trying to get underneath his  _tough_  exterior.

Megan all but  _blew_  him up.

David crossed a few wires, some were  _wrong_ , but he  _managed_  to keep Adam's tumultuous explosion at bay.

Frank put the wires in their correct places, bringing the man's simmering point right down to  _sputters_.

Sputters were better than any alternative at that point...

* * *

Grace? She got out the  _correct_  tools, handing them over to _him_. She held a manual that she wrote as they went, for him.  _Only_  for him. Her instructions tailored to him and his predicaments. It'd be a  _thick_ , heavy read after she was done, but worth it, for _their_  sake.

Some instructions were edited, wiped over via TipEx, (in hindsight, damn that 20-20, she should have used a  _pencil_ ), others crossed out, when liquid paper had run out.  _Everything_  Grace did, she did for him. They were his appointments, but Adam began feeling them not a chore, but an  _opportunity_. Not an appointment, a  _meeting of minds_.

Grace challenged him, not too much, too frequently. She'd give him something to  _mull_  over, not homework. He wasn't a child, the one in White Helix he'd managed to set  _free_. He wondered how adult him would be now, were things completely different. The timelines would always linger, there, in _recesses_  of his mind he'd rather  _not_  talk about.

* * *

"Want a card?" Grace dropped the card, shaking her head, incredulous with herself. "I fall right back in line _after_  my admittance. Why would you  _want_  a card?" She grew nervous. "This isn't an appointment. You don't need any more. Unless, of course", she sounded hopeful, _chipper_ , "you'd want one? That would be _okay_ ".

"Okay with Doctor or  _you_?" Adam's brash cheekiness was enjoyed by the woman in front of him.

" _Both_ ", Grace affirmed, "more-so the latter". A peruse of the many ticking clocks around her garnered a frown. "It's midnight. There's one train leaving soon, I think?" She picked up her purse, checking everything was present. "Take care, Adam. I meant  _all_  I said. You mean a lot to more than you know".

Potential reared its head a  _third_  time, peeking out from curtains, from behind walls, listening in, taking in its surroundings, growing comfortable quickly. Grace felt comfortable enough to let the agent walk up to her.

"And what about to you?"

Grace hummed Que Sera Sera.

"More than you could possibly know. Though"...

She let him know through her _eyes_ , C.A.S.I.E registering elevated breath, uneven pattern pulse he could see in her neck, Omega flashing. She was genuinely  _elated_ , not submissively so, and nothing said confrontational. Her body gave off relaxed, at  _ease_.

Until Adam got a little closer, opening the front door. Eyelids flitted, eyes watching his movements, cheeks a tad hollow, sucking in anticipation. She was  _waiting_ , on standby, wondering what his _next_ move would be.

* * *

Hers was to walk to said door, wait patiently by it, bag swinging gently.

"I  _can_  walk alone. I know, a woman alone, at night. Shock horror!" She laughed aloud, Adam  _adoring_  that sound. Her guard was nonexistent here. "But, I know its from respect, not ' _you can't do it, I need to escort you_ '". Her impression had her coughing, throat  _regretting_  it. Adam gawped, mouth agape. "Remind me to get you some _throat_  lozenges. Just trying your voice gives me a sore throat. Yours must be _raw_!"

She teased, walking past him with a wink.

A  _wink_.

That fucking  ** _wink_**  threw Adam for a second, loop ouroboros.

Grace made it halfway down the hallway, _laughing_  before Adam caught up with her, barely registering shutting the  _stupid_  door to his apartment...


	21. The Fault Was Not In Our Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to have this finished by the end of the year, however, I will be rather busy towards the end of said year. Still, going to aim to get it completed.

Grace sat outside the hotel, stirring coffee with a little wooden stick, the liquid whirring hypnotising her.

"Tell me something, Frank".

The tech placed his cup down.

"How  _long_  have you been planning to come here? I assume it  _wasn't_  to see Adam?"

Frank smirked.

"Correct. Since the two of you arrived in Prague, there has been a contingency plan. Malik and I were instructed to get  _you_  out".

"By David?"

" _Miller_ ".

Grace made a face.

"Miller? This was  _before_  I came here? Wouldn't be after, the man works tirelessly. He'd have had plans  _upon_  plans in his mind, backups, etc. He sounds less dull, compared to  _you_ ". She teased. "A veritable  _rainbow_ ".

"Rainbows are reflections, refraction of light. They  _disperse_  easily. Miller showed you what he _wanted_  you to see".

"Did you?" Grace inquired.

"I wouldn't be anything  _but_  myself".

Grace's face fell, eyes downcast.

"Sorry", she sighed, "I'm, not feeling myself right now. Adam needs space, time  _alone_  with David. My  _heart_  knows that, but my brain is _arguing_. It wants me to quiz David, work him out, see varying degrees of his personality, see if I can get  _beyond_  the CEO. Internal warring is so very  _tiring_ ".

"Grace feels alone, the doctor feels overcome".

"Stop it", the woman let out a breathy sigh, "reading me like a  _book_ ".

"Your  _cover_  gives it away".

"I thought I was a _binder,_  notes, all sorts of tidbits written inside. Not predictable, though not a mystery. Hercule Poirot can  _keep_  his job, huh".

Frank took a sip of tea.

"His job is safe, as is  _yours_. Oak Wood has kept your post open for you".

"Thanks". Grace took a swig of coffee, this time  _tasting_  it, the world not looking quite so dull.

Consoling herself felt stupid, but she did it anyway.

This was  _Adam's_  time now, he needed to speak with David alone, no matter how much Grace wished to delve into the man's mind, business  _and_  personal.

* * *

"Can I go home, without being  _sniped_  now?"

Grace inquired,  _regretting_  the words leaving her mouth a second later. Not only did it interrupt quiet solitude, it caused her stomach to flip  _and_  Frank to squint.

He flat out mentioned what the woman hoped he wouldn't, his words twisting an already turning stomach. The tech may as well have shoved his hand  _down_  her throat, the  _good_  it would have done...

* * *

" _Without_  Adam?"

Grace grew frustrated, blurting out whatever would shut the man up. Rational thought (she'd tried to dig a hole with prior mentioned shovels to  _conceal_  its existence) told her Frank  _meant_  well. He hadn't ever done anything, said anything to  _distress_  her.

The sad truth of it was _she_  was distressing herself.

* * *

"Yes, Frank. He has loose ends to tie up, I  _don't_. I can return home, my position is secured, I have no _ties_  here".

"The Grace  ** _crying_**  in front of my would say different. What changed?"

" _I_  changed. I am seeing through eyes I didn't  _dare_  believe I would see through again, and, though some of me likes it, the rest of me is unsure". The woman's voice grew louder, more desperate. Reigning it in failed, her ropes too  _short_  to reach. "You can't put Adam in a corner and expect him to _like_  it. You, of  _all_  people know that. I think my  _heart_  is putting him into a corner, throwing a lead at him and asking him to _fetch_  Freud's ball".

She held her head, brunette locks slipping over her face like water.

"What in the _hell_  do I do?"

Frank questioned her, not in the way she expected.

"What would  _you_  do? Consider _Adam_  here. How do you think  _he_  is feeling?"

" _Lost,_  estranged, caveat's blaring from a torn, augmented mind".

"Then why, pray tell are you speaking as if  _you_  are the only one affected in this scenario? You, too _understand_  Adam, likely on a deeper level than I  _ever_  will. I think Adam doesn't know what he wants. Its _commonplace_  for him".

Grace ran along the same vein.

"Are you suggesting _I_  fill in the blanks? That Adam may  _need_  the lead?"

"Yes and no. He needs  _guidance_ , not leading. Walking  _before_  running. Jensen is bullheaded, he runs  _far_  before he can walk, ends up injured, then acting like nothing happened. People often lead him down their  _personal_  paths, see if they can get him to think the way  _they_  think.  _Darrow_  tried".

Grace listened intently.

"Is David trying similar?"

"He  _tried_. Adam isn't one for being paraded around, especially not, whilst unable to move on a bed, doctors staring at him, writing _complicated_  analysis, administering drugs with larger,  _more_ complicated names attached to drip stands,  _pumped_  through him. He does not like  _not_  having a say, whether he is wrong  _or_  right, Adam is one thing in his life. The one,  _stable_  tether in his life?  _Drive_. It was drive that pushed him through  _months_  of therapy, learning to walk again, function, practically _infantile_  at first. I saw him, struggling not to  _acknowledge_  his situation, _contain_  tears of despair, rumblings of a stomach he wasn't quite sure was  _his_  anymore. I saw his heart  _break_  several times, Megan not there to comfort him, wrap him up in a blanket not stained with  _misery_. He asked for  _her,_  in delirium, sweating profusely onto laden rags, once  _white_. It was drive that  _woke_  him, got him up those six months of turmoil, being bed-bound, livid with  _everyone and everything_  in his apartment. Hence the destructive tendencies that have, since petered out".

Psychology 101 taught Grace not to _disturb_  the flow, let it happen as  _naturally_  as possible.

"Drive pushed him to go to Hengsha,  _Panchaea_ , despite knowing what he knew. What he  _thought_  he knew. Darrow proved him  _wrong_  on some things".

Frank fell glum, eyes distant. Grace really wished to help _move_  him along, knowing that shutting up was her only  _real_  option.

"I lost contact with him, he stepped into a black zone, no contact in or transmissions out of the tower. I saw my reflection on a long forgotten screen, gone grey on standby. I had the same  _look_  Adam gave me during his time in recovery. Dread. I  _dreaded_  not hearing anything, that Adam would end up dead and I wouldn't have ever known until, possibly  _months_  later". He finished his tea, passing up on a refill. "Drive kept Adam going, to find  _truths_  among lies, light among the  _darkest_  of shadows, true evil among  _feigned_  favour. I pushed him to see you, seeing him fall  _yet_  again, but, it was Adam who  _chose_  to go, ultimately".

He paused. "It was  _you_  who kept Adam moving, stopped him from rusting, seizing up. Your drive became  _his_ , your words his  _meaning_ , your sessions his  _purpose_ , his drive. That returned when you made  _breakthroughs_. I saw him smile, a little quirk for the first time in  _years_. He was _truly_  making strides. The Adam I knew  _is_  there, I see it beneath _all_  that has happened. His outward appearance makes  _no_  difference. It is  _you_  making him happy, wanting to get on with his life, as  _himself._  The Adam he is now has  _always_  been the Adam he was. You see that, past his grievances, his uncertainty in himself. You were and are _willing_  to see him for who he is. He is driven to  _you,_  not the appointments".

* * *

Grace sat up, soft beam lighting up her features.

"Frank", she teased, voice pithy, "I did what I could, and", she laughed, "you can _see_  how I feel about him. That was a really  _kind_  thing to say. That was a marvellous rendition of Adam's time,  _your_ time with him. I appreciate you telling me that. All of it is golden nuggets, I sought after them, never thinking to ask the man _behind_  the screens". Coffee long cold, Grace drank it quickly, closing, scrunching her eyes with displeasure. "Come on. I could do with some food. Its, what, almost five? Want something? It  _would_  have been my treat anyways, but, after  _that_?  _Definitely_  on my tab. I think the two of us need some drinks too, process both that and  _carbs_! Been  _craving_  garlic bread all day, kept smelling it as I walked to the hotel. Pasta too, maybe some pesto chicken? Hmm".

The brunette put a finger to her lips, using her elbow on the table as leverage to stand.

Frank sighed, laughed, swiped a hand through mussed up black tresses, standing to follow Grace. She grinned, getting out her phone.

"You,  _eating?!_  Well I never! Didn't think I'd  _see_  the day! Ought to record this, put it in the 'Frank doing things that most,  _normal_  people do, but he is _far_  from normal' folder".

The tech paused mid-step.

"You have that?"

He  _didn't_  believe her, that much was certain, but Grace couldn't help but be a little  _mischievous_...

"Oh, I  _do_. It has energy drinks, the colour the likes of _anything_  I have witnessed before, with my own two eyes, the time you had macaroni and cheese, with hash browns and coffee". She pretended to  _scroll_  through this 'folder', really scrolling through pictures of  _Freud_. "And just  _now_. See?"

Upon turning the device, Frank practically  _bolted_ , getting several steps away. Grace doubled over, wiping her eyes.

"Easy to wind up,  _clever_  noggin, wit for days? You remind me of my  _Father_ ".

Frank groaned, walking up to her, face stern, stance stone.

"That's even _worse_ ".

He put his palm on his face, covering mixed guile with duplicity, upon  _seeing_  his companion's face.

"Hey! My Father is  _nice_ ".

Frank nodded, rolling blues, though at Grace's side now.

"Of  _course_  he is. No  _bias_  there.  _None_  at all"...

* * *

Grace returned to Adam's flat as her phone hit nine in the evening, nerves somewhat sated from her meal. A few rum and cokes  _eased_  the process along. She coughed lightly, making a fist, rapping on the agent's door.

It was dark inside the apartment, in no way an alarm for the doctor. It was the norm for her patient. Consternation _lingered_  in the space, things unsaid, holding privative in the air, strings _invisible_. Playing shadows were little children, scurrying around, a game of tag gleeful. This wasn't a  _heavy_  dark, it was natural dark. One of Adam's  _own_  accord, not a clamouring mind's doing.

Gloomy but _homely_  were the words on Grace's mind. They would have been on her lips, were it not for Adam's next move.

The man went from standing ten feet away, to  _striding_ , space between them now little. He dropped his arms, relaxing shoulders, eyes opening with abrogating fervour. It was as if the last few hours  _hadn't_  happened, or, they had triggered something within him, so he felt  _alright_  with offering affection.

Grace said nothing, sure her posture (she _mirrored_  him unconsciously, opening herself up for  _closeness_ ) said it  _for_  her.

Boldly, the pair closed the gap, Grace wrapping her arms around Adam's chest, deeming his neck a step _too_  far at the moment. Adam wrapped his around her waist, her chest avoided, her neck too.  _Neither_  were acceptable areas for him to touch.

* * *

Somewhat tired, the two ended up on the couch, Grace's hand threaded through cropped, spiky, brown hair. She  _recalled_  Adam mentioning how Margie did this,  _allaying_  fears of a monster under his bed,  _mollify_  want to get up, run into his parents room to sleep with them. Grace  _conciliated_  him, lulling him into the couch. If he sunk any further down, he would be  _one_  with the couch.

She could have whispered  _sweet_  nothings, pacify him that way.

That wouldn't have been right, not the  _right_  path to stroll down.

She wandered,  _meandering_  her way towards his path, optimising  _silence_  to suit them, the mood.

Silence was  _gilded_  gold, precious metal in their hands.

Adam _threw_  away the clay, much favouring _Grace_  in his arms...


	22. A Impulsa Caerula Nubes

_'Adam. Autumn is my favourite time of year, being outside, breathing in sea air, after coming from a bustling, polluted city is bliss. I'm heading to Cafe Metro tomorrow morning, if you'd like to join me? I'd very much like that. Say nine? Its okay if you don't, but please, do let me know. Night, Grace'._

Adam chuckled reading this, putting his coffee mug back on the drainer. Getting out of the city limits sounded good. A quick shower, changing into fresh, albeit  _black_  clothing, Adam left his apartment, deciding to make a stop off at The Time Machine before he met up with his friend...

* * *

Adam stepped off the tram,  _unaware_  of people's eyes on him. His head  _didn't_  blare warnings, didn't tell him of people's discomfort at seeing a half man-half robot? No 'beep-boops', no strained movement from lack of oiling. They were never  _quite_  sure, their minds whirring, gears  _stuck_. They could use some of Grace's WD40, the man thought, masking laughter with a mouth-covering stretch. Clean air was a welcome inhale from the city's fumes, as the man made his way to the docks.

* * *

From a distance, distinctly Grace, Adam  _knew_ , was wearing a blue dress, vertical white lines down the pleated skirt. He looked as he walked, deciding stopping and staring would look  _creepy_. Casual Grace startled him, his steps  _slowing_. Her hair was  _down_ , swishing with the wind, the sun revealing odd strands of gold. She'd _see_  him, the man knew, he was strolling at the pace of a  _snail_.

She did, smiling brightly. Attention taken from the warm, glorious rays, the woman's light the  _only_  thing in his vision. He saw her, became aware of her happy mood, her body facing towards him, giving him her  _full_  attention using his brain, revelling, the only  _waves_  he saw were those of the sea, rising and falling softly on beige sands. He swallowed, throat dry. Sea air kept him level headed, living in a city had him forget how much he enjoyed life's simpler pleasures. Recalling his youth, sitting on a dock, hand in hand with his latest 'crush', salty breeze reassuring. Words went with the swift air, confessed silliness, which, at the time felt real, promises made,  _not_  kept, though they remained friends.

Grace was a _friend_ , near a  _dock_ , a hairsbreadth away now. His past recollections  _cheered_  him, spurring him on.

* * *

Grace blinked away flutters, holding up a menu.

"There's a  _reason_  why I am wearing this. Its not for the weather". She pushed out her stomach. "Its roomy,  _elastic_ , so, the pancakes I have been staring at for a while officially have  _my_  name on them".

Adam took the menu, curtailing her comments with quaint chuckles.

"The pancake batter bottle, next to the  _third_  box of Magic Gnome.  _Observant_ ".

He winked. Grace flushed muted pink.

"Tis my job to be, _dear_ ".

She stuck out the tip of her tongue, not quite childish, but getting there,  _past_  the middle bar...

"If I order these, tell me you'll  _help_  me eat them? I have a weakness for carbs,  _sweet_  carbs specifically. This may be stretchy, but I still wish to be able to  _fit_  in it".

Slyness decorated glazed emeralds, fingers placed on a twitching,  _working_  jaw, thumbing the hairs there.

"Can't have it snapping, it'd fall  _off_ ".

Grace kept Adam's hint going, deciding, 'fuck it'. There weren't many people around to hear them...

"Not  _outside_ , no. At least I can change indoors...".

The woman not clarifying  _where_  were hands, grabbing Adam's head, spinning it. He went to retort, but shut right on up when a server walked over, and began speaking with her.

Grace handed him the menu, pointing to the pancakes she dare not try, get her mouth around accents,  _unknown_  syllables. The man laughed, nodding casually. Grace smiled in return, friendly, using manners she'd been brought up with from a very young age.

Adam growling snapped her head around, her eyebrows raised.

* * *

"Was that  _jealousy_ , I hear?" She grew concerned, genuinely so. "Adam. If I must tell you, that young man isn't a  _patch_  on you. Dating younger feels wrong, if my mind takes me, it gets slightly,  _predatory._  No harm meant, but, well, you get it,  _right_?"

Concern shifted to uncertainty, hoping Adam would nod.

"Speaking of", another tangent, "I see a few patches of skin showing through your beard. Don't worry", the server came back, taking two mugs, two pots of tea and jug of milk off a tray, placing them onto the table, before leaving, "he can't even  _grow_  one. Its called  _dating_ , not babysitting. Yikes".

Adam choked on swallowed saliva. Voice gruff, he just about got out coherent reassurance.

"I  _wasn't_  worried".

Grace looked out, onto the sea, following a sunbeam, her eyes glimmering, brown  _lightening_ , golden hue. The man hadn't had the  _option_  to look into her eyes properly, only seeing her in darkened spaces. They looked  _one_  shade there, coffee without creamer. They gave the same  _warmth_  a cup would. They radiated feeling, windows to her heart. She rarely hid _anything_  from him, honesty her vice, her bane. But, also, he found it endearing, _charming_. Her reality was that of tranquillity, cordiality,  _ardour_.

Here? That and more, camo-green revealed curiosity, wisdom beyond her _years_ ,  _beyond_  her job...

* * *

Her voice pulled him from cogitation.

"I seem to lose my reason with you. Should I be  _concerned_?"

"I know _Frank_  is. Reckon he thinks I'm ' _corrupting_ ' you".

The woman snorted, drips of tea finding a crease of her mouth. She swallowed.

"Likely thinks me a  _fool_ ".

Adam let out a quick breath, a huff, preemptive of something big, an announcement.

"I had C.A.S.I.E turned  _off_ ".

Grace ruminated.

"See things as they  _are_? I'm not sure what they do, though I assume they do the thinking  _for_  you?"

"To put it bluntly? Yes. See right through anyone, or _anything_ ".

Cerebration became an aslant smile.

"You could see through me?  _All_  of it?" She looked down, specifically at her chest. Adam followed her, cautious, looking for a second, then back up.

"Not your  _clothes._  The irony is, I became a psychologist, despite  _never_  wanting to be".

"I did because I  _wanted_  to be. My penchant was, always will be  _guidance_ , advice, give people a hand to  _hold_. I'd like to think I am proficient at that. I've heard profuse quarrels, exchanges limited to hushed profanities simply because of  _my_  presence, arguments start, get heated, then end, usually with an agreement they'd stop trying to rip one another's _throats_  out". She clasped her hands together, seeing the waiter makes his way to their table with a tray, a plate full of pancakes atop it. She thanked him, took a sip of tea, and picked up utensils.

* * *

The first bite of sweetened breakfast has the woman struggling to reign in contented hums. Adam washed down a bite with tea, offering a question, one Grace had sort of expected, she wasn't sure how 'serious' they  _were_ , however...

"Ever wanted kids?"

Pancake swallowed, the woman cut up some more.

"When I was young? Yes. I didn't think on specifics, only that  _making_  them was fun". She giggled. "Christ, I sound like a  _teen_  again. Ahem. Lets restart. I did, though, at some point, that maternal instinct began _fading_. My work took most of my time up, my ex talked about children, saying he'd  _prefer_  to have them when he was older. He wanted to get a few decades of work in before starting a family, as did I. Now? I'm nearing forty, and I have  _zero_  interest in motherhood. That sounded  _terrible_ "...

Adam shook his head.

"Not at all. My circumstances were similar, except for Megan wanting kids. She never did, she made that  _abundantly_  clear. I wasn't about to question, push her on it. I find kids  _gravitate_  towards me. I do have a paternal instinct, but only for  _other_  people's children. Can't imagine having my own".

Grace knew that one.

"Children like me,  _a lot,_  hugging my knees, wanting to be held. I get a strange feeling, like I should  _run_. I don't, but still, kids try. They see me as maternal maybe?"

"You have a calm tone, you carry yourself with  _care_ , grace. Kids pick up on someone decent. You notice they avoid angry people? That's why".

"Angry makes  _most_  upset". She ate around snaffles. "More of an animal Mum. Dogs melt me, I become mush, my brain creates sounds my mouth utters, strange  _squeals_ ". She looked cavil. "Often garnered laughter...I try not to sound like a mouse around Freud, despite his moustache, fluffy stomach and tiny paws.  _Reign_  it in, Grace...", she chided.

"I had a dog years back, Kubrick. Big, mixed breed,  _no_  idea what,  _intimating_  if you didn't know him, a soft mutt if you  _did_ ".

"From your grin when you first saw Freud?  _Dog person_ , that much was clear. That thrilled me, seeing you upbeat".

"He was put down". Bites of blunt teeth still affected Adam with thoughts of his cherished canine.

Grace didn't apologise, deeming it inconsequential. She wasn't able to change that, act, to  _change_  the outcome.

"My first dog, Rolo vanished one day. I was seven, just opened the gate, retrieved his lead, and, when I turned, he was gone. He'd  _run_  away. Never saw him again. Daft sod, would curl up on your knee, despite his  _size_. Chocolate Labrador. Rolos were my favourite sweets. Two and two really".

Adam simpered.

"Had dogs since I was my parents knee height. They towered over me, could easily have knocked me down, never did. They were  _family_  to me".

Grace nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly, quickly munching a large bite of food.

"Exactly. Pets  _are_  family, they mean  _much_  more than many know. When I hear anyone say 'they are just animals', it gets to me. One of the few things that does. I have to bite my tongue, disagree firmly but _fairly_ , make my point  _without_  swearing".

She finished a second pancake, Adam a third.

"They think, feel, understand. All you have to do is look in their eyes with the  _right_  mind. Intensity lays there. Did Kubrick get more affectionate when you were hurting? Ill?"

Adam nodded. " _Always_. He'd sit on top of a thick blanket Megan owned. We'd use it when we caught colds. He'd sit as closely as possible to us, his head on our knee".

"Freud sat on my bed, every day for  _two_  weeks when the I caught the flu. He was a pup at the time, had boundless energy, wouldn't leave my side, unless he needed to be walked. My neighbour helped me out there, fed him too. Apparently, when they were out walking, he'd pull on the lead, his head facing where he'd  _just_  come from. I would have cooed, were it not for coughing fits that almost had me  _vomiting_. He's a sweet boy, very smart, learned tricks in weeks". Her time with her dog came flooding back. "Does he ever  _beg_  when he sees you get out a can?"

Adam nodded a second time, earnest upward tilt of his lips.

"Yeah, never fails to cheer me up, no matter what happened. He rolls over sometimes, puts up a paw other times. I've _shook_  it more than I have hands of  _people_ , I swear"...

Grace grinned, poking the last pancake with a knife.

"Uncouth, I know. I should put  _down_  my knife, not wave it about". She feigned a hopeless sigh. "Dad would be frustrated. Taught me how to eat  _correctly_ , where  _each_  pieces of cutlery goes, which one to use _first_ , how to fold napkins, place plates within _six_  inches of the edge of the table, glasses _four_  inches away from those, to their left, unless someone is right handed, which you  _ignore_ , as, that's where the glass goes". She cut up the pancake, pushing half towards Adam. "Only fair. There should be some tea left, might be a tad cold now. Should I make a swan?" She clarified. " _Try_  to make a swan?"

Adam poured the last of the tea into their cups, finding sugar packets, using the milk afterwards. He then extricated the pancake pieces from the plate, dexterity that of defusing a bomb. Grace's bomb lay within his  _chest_.

It  _blew_  when she picked up a napkin, folding it, the concentration on her face creating lines, raising a brow, frowning quickly. She'd made two wings, but the rest was a  _rectangle_...

* * *

"I don't know  _how_  to make a swan..."

The man couldn't speak, merely studying her, his chest tightening.  _Reflex_  closed a fist under the table, knuckles dug into his knee. Allowing himself something  _other_  than self degradation affected him, some tart piece of mind wishing him to flee. Ignoring it, he focused on his food, opening the fist to grab his cup. Tepid liquid drank, he ate the pancake slowly, methodically, Grace's attention taking with finishing her meal.

* * *

"The pier looks nice,  _quiet_. Let this settle a bit", Grace  _pushed_  out her stomach, "go for a walk. Adam? Care to join me?"

Adam swallowed last dregs of tea, throat working harder to process it due to nervousness.

"You can leave, if  _you_  want. I won't keep you".

The brunette's eyes were ardent, facial features lowered.

"It isn't you", the brunette male said, "its, I am letting myself go, throwing weight off my back. It feels great, but, without that weight, I feel  _less_  like me, you know?"

"You have the key to the shackles, but are so  _used_  to wearing them, that taking them off feels  _wrong_ , somehow? Been in a darkened room for some time,  _knowing_  there's a door to the outside, its light coming through slits in the doorway, but afraid to open it. To  _escape_? The world isn't innocent, Adam. You have witnessed that, first hand. But", she resisted placing her hand on Adam's free one on the table, "I hope, with me, at least, that you can  _breathe_ , shift the weight, just for a _time_. It isn't quite as simple as dropping it, though people make it out so. I am here _if_  you want me, gone if you don't. Ought to be going back to Oak Wood really, go see my Dad too. Its been a few years".

Adam knew he ought to visit his parents. They had been good to him, his childhood full of wonder, falling over, scraping knees, his morals were virtuous, heartfelt. He'd always been one for matters of the heart. Anything he did, he put his _heart_  into it. It'd been stamped on, used, thrown around.

Grace managed to search for it, among  _any_  obstacles he put in the way, anything he used, she _sifted_  through, took the path of _least_  resistance.

She was an  _only_  child, as was he. It prompted the man to reflect on whether or not she felt the same  _loneliness_  he had felt from time to time.

He didn't need to feel that anymore. Neither did Grace, if his assumptions were correct.

* * *

Grace stood, motioning the waiter over, placing cutlery, sugar packets and such on the tray.

"Could you mind my purse? Just need to use the restroom". She handed Adam her bag. "Burgundy suits you".

She winked, handing a credit chit in the younger man. He took it, nodding in thanks, printing a receipt, taking the tray away.

Dress swishing as she walked, the sight entranced the man, his chest squeezing for a second time. She looked  _back_ , sweeping hair from her face, her gaze  _obliterating_  pestering unease. A particular,  _well_  known feeling hit the agent, breaths rapid, rising, falling of his chest _familiar._  He could but express tenderness,  _all_  of him agreeing to her offer of a walk. Standing, he kept the bag around his arm, wafts of perfume drifting off a silk cherry blossom patterned scarf she'd tied around a handle.

It smelt of vanilla, coconut, the very  _same_  scent she'd had his nose  _unable_  to forget in The Time Machine...


	23. Pillow Talk

_A month later_

Grace opened a can of dog food, placing a knife into it, scooping out half into a metal bowl. Paws bounded as Freud ran towards her. Adam was taking care of loose ends, the woman taking care of her pooch, whilst snorting Freud had her laughing. She knew he'd have  _jelly_  on his chin. Grabbing kitchen roll, she chose to skip lunch, heading to the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket, turning on the TV, news switched for a programme about dogs. Her own jumped up, front paws on her knee.

"You aren't licking me  _after_  eating. No".

Puppy eyes didn't wash with her, though bright, inquisitive black eyes softened her own. She pat next to her, her friend perking up upon hearing barks. The Miniature Schnauzer shot up,  _scouting_ around the room, much to his owner's delight...

* * *

Grace fell asleep at some point, sleeping soundly on the couch, blanket tucked under her chin, cushion under her head splayed with hair, colouring it brunette. A hand poked out, not securely under the heat of her sheet. Adam saw this upon returning home, finding the scene adorable. He considered moving the hand, returning it under the cover, then  _curling_  his around hers, lacing metal with flesh.

Would it be cold? Would their chill  _wake_  her? Adam withdrew, sitting on his haunches.

Grace woke up,  _partially_ , her tone gave that away.

_Shit..._

* * *

He went to open his mouth, seeing the same free hand raise its index digit and 'shush' him.

"Firstly", a wisp, ghost of laughter left her, "no need for apologies. Secondly, this _isn't_  my bed, is it?" Grace moved to stretch. Adam shook his head. She sighed. "I shouldn't be here". She looked around, still groggy. "Is Freud okay?" Adam nodded this time, gesturing to his bedroom, the pup snuggled on his plush bed.

Speaking of plush...

He was so  _tired_.

* * *

"What time is it?"

"Four. You can stay here, its fine".

Grace didn't look at him. She gazed at her hand, _stunned_  at where it was, stunned that Adam  _didn't_  move away. If she turned it over, she'd be near his  _nose_. She'd be able to thumb his cheekbone, his jaw.

The woman turned over abruptly onto her back. She huffed, clearly unhappy. This confused the agent, his swirling eyes fixed on hers. Green melted away her worries, yellow, golden flecks calming her somehow.

"They used to be  _blue_ , right?"

She whispered that. Adam coughed, unused voice came out hoarse.

"Yeah".

Grace's rogue hand was back, hovering above the cushion.

"Blue is a calming colour, often used in tranquil settings. This is one of those, for me", she clarified, still coherent despite being half asleep, "however, I find your eyes, how they are now unique, they  _ease_  my nerves. They appear green, but, when I look into them? I see a melting pot of  _honey_. Is this making  _any_  sense, or am I asleep, and this is all in my  _sleepy_  noggin?"

Adam kept his chuckle as quiet as possible. Grace turned to him, her chest tight. She'd held her breath for an unknown reason, having to let it out. She inhaled, not getting smoke, or indeed, any  _vice_ from the man. This made her smile earnestly. It appeared he wasn't  _relying_  off either in order to sleep.

His eyes landed on her hand, fingers naturally curling. He found that cute, an obvious sign of comfort. She was  _comfortable_  around him. He felt comfortable around her too.

_Two_  things did cross his mind though.

He wanted to weave his hand through the tangled  _mess_  that was Grace's hair, smooth it out. Exercise caution, hands used prior to  _break_  things.

Grace would  _not_  be broken, not by him or  _anyone_  else...

* * *

The other thought? How quickly he could ease  _his_  fingers between  _hers_. This distressed, and simultaneously  _strained_  his mind, pulled at it like someone had their hand in his hair, tugging on his head.

Grace had the _same_  idea, she was equally indecisive on whether or not to act on it. She held out her hand, not  _daring_  to look at the man, lest he yank her heart out by bolting, the gesture  _spooking_ him.

She didn't want that, anything she could do to keep him there, she  _would_.

Her head whirled, thoughts jumbled, words mumbled.

The ball was in  _Adam's_  court now.

If he wanted to  _serve_  it? Grace  _knew_  her heart would thud in  _time_  with the ball hitting the ground, intermingling happiness with wanton  _worry._

* * *

Adam put his hand to hers, tentative, slight touches, his fingers a tad thicker than hers, easily slipping in-between hers. Grace's eyes widened, hazel soothed instantaneous. Her body eased against the couch, no longer needing to feel tense.

"I didn't want you to feel as if you should  _let_  me touch you. Sorry".

"You're  _apologising_  again". Adam preempted what the woman was trying to say.

"You don't know what to say, you don't want me to bolt".

Grace nodded, admitting it quickly.

"Here". He placed his hand above hers, the notable size difference warming his cockles. "Take it,  _before_  I leave".

"Leave?" Grace asked, really wanting to indeed, wrap her hand around Adam's. "Its _your_  apartment. If anything, _I_  should leave".

"No, you shouldn't", Adam shook his head, "and I meant to my  _bedroom_ , but, I can leave too", he added,  _cheekily_ , "if you want".

Grace's shock made him snort.

" ** _NO_**! Daft sod". She took the hand, 'discord' fading into nothingness with the simple act of affection.

Looking into honey pools quickly became her favourite things. The angle her head was at had her looking at his chin.

"Didn't know my chin was so  _riveting_ ".

Grace snorted, not masking it, comfortable enough around the man to know he wouldn't judge.

"Well, you do have  _stray_  hairs you've missed. Breaks the pattern a smidgen. Want me to shave it? I could, this angle is perfect,  _perpendicular_  even".

Adam, clearly amused lowered his head.

"You, with something  _sharp_  against my throat?"

Grace nodded, though the man could see gears were turning in her mind. She wondered what he was up to.

"You think I'd cut it  _here_? I'd get  _covered_! I'm sure we both know how hard it is to get blood out of clothing. Stubborn fluid".

Adam laughed aloud, her reference to blood  _charming_ , simultaneously reminding him of terrible things.

Grace took the sting away from those memories. She removed the barbs, extracting them, accuracy considerably  _spot_  on.

* * *

"That", he paused, "now  _there's_  a thought".

Grace knew where that vein was travelling...

"Me, lying down,  _covered_  in fluid.  _Classy_ ", she squeezed his hand, Adam's pleased features prominent at  _feeling_  it, "really". She feigned princess, sighing hopefully, looking up at the ceiling, free hand on her forehead. "Whatever would I do without you? I'd  _wilt_  and perish, I would".

Her impishness perished with movement of Adam's head. He lowered it again, this time  _further_  than before.

"A part of me, buried deep in my subconscious is reading you", she pointed to the two of them, "reading this as  _potentially_  something wonderful".

"Potentially?" A worried brow raised. Grace followed up.

" _It_  wants what I  _think_  you want, but if I am wrong? Hence why I used the word...".

Adam shushed her, shaking his head defiantly.

"Would I be here, in  _this_  position", he inched further down for effect, "if I didn't want to be? No. And you  _know_  that. Don't doubt yourself".

The woman processed that.

"...".

Nothing.

"...".

Grace tilted her head.

"Should I just move up, or"...

Adam answered her, leaving her ever so happy to have been  _wrong_...

* * *

"Hmmm? Oh! I said I'd call my Dad today".

"So he can tell me to  _back away_  from his daughter?"

Grace laughed.

"Not at all. He's a great man, protective over me, but knows he shouldn't pry. I can handle myself". She looked at the screen, then Adam. "Not like this though. I reckon he'd have something to say about  _this_ "...

She closed her eyes, dialling her Father's number.

"If you want to run, now's the time,  _sweetie_ ".

Adam shook his head, mischievously scanning her over, still tangled up in the blanket, but sat up this time.

" _Never_ ". He winked. "Take out?"

Grace nodded, her companion revelling in her  _glowing_  pink face...

* * *

"Afternoon Dad".

Gregory's greying beard was the primary thing Adam saw, from his vantage point. Grace's primarily saw his  _baffled_  expression. Both chuckled.

"Afternoon _Gracie_ ". His daughter, wide eyed scrunched the blanket, little fists balled. Adam was in the kitchen, using a cloth to deal with heaving laughter, causing chest palpitations. Grace narrowed her eyes at him, letting herself grow annoyed for a millisecond.

"Dear  _Daddy_ ", she began, "whilst I love and adore you, I am not a  _toddler_  any more".

The older man's tone rumbled, his voice reminding Adam of Bob Hope's, a tad less terse.

"Yes. Remind me how  _old_  I am, why don't you? Charming that, bloody  _charming_ ".

Adam failed to hold it in any longer. He spluttered, coughing, spit  _flying_  over the drainer.

"So, where's this 'Adam'? He sounds like he's _behind_  me..."

He actually _turned_...

"He  _is_ , kind of. You aren't old, Dad, you are  _vintage_ ".

Gregory chuckled, patting his chest.

"Of course I  _am_! Don't worry, Adam". Adam popped his head around the door frame. "Not about to growl at you, profanity spew,  _ruing_  the day you met my daughter. She is, however, my  _only_  child, so I do hope, and believe that you will treat her how she  _should_  be treated. Grace can handle herself, I won't intervene, stick my nose in. Its a little  _large_  for that..."

The younger bit his lip, stifling bursts, fits of amusement.

"I will, I have no intention of being anything other than  _respectable_ ". He gave the older a resolute head nod. "Its good to meet you, the man who taught Grace to be a  _wonderful_  human being".

Grace blushed, picking up a cushion, readying it to throw, despite being a  _terrible_  shot.

"Adam, please. My Father is  _right_  there. He is a gent, Dad, not Mr Darcy, but you know I wouldn't behave like this, were I unsure".

Gregory agreed, but thumbed his beard, eyes crinkling.

"I won't quiz, pry. My feeling is that as long as the two of you are honest,  _true_ , I see no issue".

"Did Grace say anything about  _me_  to you?"

Both Fielding's vehemently said no.

"Only your name".

" _Patient_  confidentiality".

"I'm  _not_  your patient".

Grace shrugged.

"Something, _something_  confidentiality?"

Gregory pursed his lips.

" _Relationship_ , Gracie".

Grace gasped.

" _Dad_!"

Adam snorted.

"That's the  _word_ , isn't it?" He looked at both parties. "It is not?" His amusement diminished fast. "Ah. See? I inquire when I said I  _wouldn't_ "...

"Dad"...

Adam filled in the blanks for her.

"Mr Fielding".

The elder corrected.

"Gregory,  _please_ ".

"Gregory. Your daughter and I aren't entirely sure if we  _are_  a we?"

Grace added an addendum.

"We  _are_  a we, in the sense that we are in the  _same_  room,  _same_  apartment, we share similar likes, dislikes and such".

Her Father's quizzical mahogany eyes mused.

"You're speaking as doctor Grace, to your own  _Father_? I'm positively offended".

"And there was me, going for  _earnest_...". His daughter rolled her eyes, playfulness evident on features. She faced Adam, he walked around, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Adam". She asked coolly. "I think I can say, with clarity, as  _clear_  as day that I would like to be an  _us_. However, that is a  _large_  ask, not said freely, thoughtlessly. That's  _my_  answer, my side of the coin, Dad".

Gregory took that.

"Well, whatever may be, I  _sincerely_  wish the two of you elation".

Grace showed her _jocose_  side.

"Now _you_  sound like the doctor"...

"Grace, sweetheart. I  _dislike_  specialist speak. Can't you speak as  _my_  daughter?"

"I  _care_ , Dad. Resolute, I  _know_  where I stand. I wish for Adam to stand _beside_  me, it is his choice whether too or not. I am willing to give him all the time and space he  _needs_ ".

Gregory backtracked.

"Hold on. Didn't you say you were in the  _same_  apartment? Same room? This i _s your_  apartment in Prague, no?"

Grace shook her head.

"Adam's then. So, you  _moved_  in together? Surely if not a 'we', than a _kind_  of 'us'"...

* * *

Adam, quiescent until now struck up a conversation.

"I've done a lot of thinking about this. I've run from much in my life. Whenever I've had anything good, its been  _taken_  away. My  _choice_  didn't matter, my _opinion_  wasn't listened too. Grace  _always_ gave me a choice, she listened to all, the  _worst_  of the worst, the heinous sides of the world, the  _rusted_  side of the coin no one saw, unless they dared to look _beneath_  the surface. Your daughter  _did_. What I struggle with is seeing myself as something other than the  _rusted_  side of the coin, whilst she is  _shining_ , new. She's come through  _all_  of it still sparkling. I came out  _tarnished_ ".

Grace bit her gum, welling up.

"Do you think  _that's_  what I see?  _Jesus_ , Adam. Fucking  _clank_?"

Adam found himself in  _veneration_  of this woman, one capable of challenging  _everything_  he thought he knew...

"I understand you may not view what I view, may never  _fully_  take in my words, but, please,  _listen_ ". She sucked in a breath. "What I see is someone witty,  _brilliant_ , mind as sharp as a _pin_ , tactile, reliable, authentic,  _always_  yourself,  _regardless_  of the situation. Ingenuous, quite the _connoisseur_  of black clothing, well meaning, notably well  _groomed_ , that's a big plus. Can't stand  _straggly_  hairs, and unkempt is a  _big_  no no". She chuckled. "Able to diffuse _more_  than belligerent, opinionated people, so that means  _nimble_. Dad? That's your cue to  _stop_  listening".

Gregory reached for a cloth, wiping away tears, his daughter  _pulling_  at his heartstrings, the man thinking of his wife, how _he_  was with her...

"Not a problem, sweetheart. I love you".

"I love you too, Dad. Thank you, for _everything_. I'll come see you soon".

She looked at Adam, ending the call.

* * *

"That goes for  _you_  too, Mister Man in Black. Totally not a 'clank', although, if I hear any  _automaton_  noises, you know where I am going. Straight to the _toolbox_ ".

Adam pulled her close, her words, the meaning behind them  _everything_.  _His_  everything.

He kissed her with his everything,  _without_  exception.


	24. Wind On The Willows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've a soft spot for Gregory, you'll notice that often...

Grace knocked, nostalgia the outside of her parent's home brought differing emotions. She went with pleasant, for the time being. The door was a _still_  the strange variant of blue and purple, one her Mother mixed. It had been repainted several times, spots of older paint  _missed_  lower down the panels. She laughed, imagining her Father, crouched, paintbrush in hand, paint pot by his side, glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose,  _squinting_  to find missed patches. Terracotta potted plants either side of the door, decoration clearly well loved trimmed neatly, tiny yellow and white flowers dotted throughout hanging baskets, along with tulips, scarlet beauty radiating in gloomy skies,  _brightening_  the road. Magenta buds, Cecilia's _favourite_  colour were in smaller pots, either side of the large ones. The woman breathed in what she knew  _wasn't_  clean air, but she was  _home_ , in her beloved London.

* * *

The door opened. Grace picked up her bag, warmth coming from the home inviting, not only from the abode itself. Gregory's cheery face greeted her, one hand scratching his head, the other in his scraggly beard.

"Morning, Dad".

Gregory beamed.

"Good morning, my dear. Come here". He opened his arms.

Grace feigned worry.

"Dad squeeze?"

Her Father shook his head.

"A civilised hug, bear hugs are reserved for if you're  _crying_ ".

Flatly, his daughter stated.

"I have no want to cry. I have  _full_  want for a cuppa though"...

"Kettle's  _already_  on"...

Grace grinned appreciative, handing her bag to her Dad. He smirked, taking it, helping her into the house.

* * *

The woman sat on plush maroon leather, taking the weight off her feet was heavenly. She slipped off her ankle boots, easing the buckle loose. Messaging her ankles, she took her purse off the table next to her, then put it back. She wished to look at her phone, wondering if she'd get any messages from a  _certain_  man. This feeling was a tad  _abnormal_ , that fading quickly, switching to ripples through her chest, her  _stomach_  their goal.

Concentrating on her surroundings, hazel eyes swept the room. The living room's oak beams, the vaulted Tudor style ceilings, black and white scheme cosy. As always, the heating was on, some would say _ridiculously_  high, but she would say perfect. Both Fielding's suffered from poor circulation in their hands and feet. They'd turn white, toes painful, wriggling them giving  _jolts_  of pain.

Grace hid her bag on the floor at her side, as far away as possible that she _couldn't_  grab it easily.

* * *

Gregory entered the room, two large mugs in one hand. Grace chuckled, unable to carry one of those in  _each_  hand. He tilted his head, seeing the desk devoid of purse, placing a mug on the coaster. His daughter nodded gratefully.

" _Adam_  been in touch?"

"I get 'eagle eyed' from you, huh"? She nudged. "No, not since this morning, which would have been early morning in Detroit. He said 'hi'".

Gregory questioned.

"I distinctly recall him being more,  _articulate_ ".

"He said he would like to socialise, meet up some time, with  _you_ ".

"Meet the parent? Must be  _serious_ ". He took his mug, 'asbestos' hands handling scorching heat like it were tepid. "...".

"Fill in the _empty_  space, devoid of  _description_? Alright".

Grace took her mug, keeping her hand on the handle, breathing on the liquid a few times. Drinking some, her Dad had made it  _perfect_ , remembering just how she liked it.

* * *

"Adam's thirty-seven, six one, brunette, adopted, augmented, though, few are visible. His eyes, for one are a mixture of gold and green, unlike anything I've viewed before. Despite him seeing them as 'not his', I see emotion behind them, he shows more than he knows. He _is_  articulate, his past is why he was referred to me". She knew better than to speak of that. "Astute,  _altruistic_ , sadly that is made fun of, used  _against_  him. Benevolent, busy,  _not_  busybody, curious, keeps himself to himself, knows more of life than I think  _anyone_  should. I handled this wrong at first, retrospective, when he needed  _prospective_. Reactive, society  _attempts_  to dull it, but its there. I find that attractive. Far better than grunts for answers. Open, keeps closed for some time. Understandable. Tough outer shell, inner mighty shutters, though willing to let those down. For  _me_. That's  _extraordinary_. Letting me see him smile? His heart visible? I am  _grateful_  beyond anything else. He is increasingly relevant in my life, a _fixture_  I wish to stay. I won't cage him, however. He's free to  _fly._  I believe I helped him throw away the key. I hope I, not as an influence, but as a  _companion_  can take the edge off tougher parts of his life".

Gregory auscultated.

"His line of work? He was head of security, ex-SWAT, worked as a policeman too. Now? Would you  _approve_  of a mercenary?"

"Why ask if you think I wouldn't? I can  _assuage_  your worries by saying that I do not mind. He does not seem a rogue, thief of hearts as well as money".

Grace chuckled.

"The fact you propose I _have_  a heart is amusing. Surely encased in ice?  _Shrouded_  in white lab fabric?"

"Propped up with a  _tablet_ ". The two laughed. "Your heart is among the most  _charming_  I have encountered. Much like your Mother's, congenial, patent, a little  _mad_ , but that's up for debate as to whether or not Adam likes that". He mused, beard twitching with chin movement. "The  _first_  man, hmm".

" _God_  was the first man, referred to as a man. I am glad I was not brought up around religion, however. A hindrance, full of melancholic  _discord_ , lies. We are not a family for  _manipulation_ ".

Gregory wholly subscribed.

"My upbringing was that way, it followed a path I did not wish to meander down. I walked away, creating my  _own_  path, as did you. Cecilia wasn't religious in any way shape or form. She yearned for _flexibility_ , to be able to  _have_  what _she_  wanted,  _without_  fear of judgement".

"Ah, that old  _chestnut_. What a crock of  _shit._  If anyone tells me I cannot do something because of my  _gender_ , I shan't be best pleased. Someone needs  _crack_  that nut..."

She sipped her drink casually, holding it as one would something they held dear. It warmed her hands, fire from her words lighting up her cheeks. She thought of when she left Prague, her mood coltish, coquettish, a  _modern_  day Elizabeth Bennet, her Mr Darcy not a  _proverbial_  charmer, but a handsome  _devil_...

* * *

_Innocence_  came to the fore.

"Whenever I compliment him, I get  _kissed_. That's distinctly  _wonderfu_ l".

Her Father chortled.

"Dishing out pleasantries like  _sweets_  to children on Halloween? My dear, I am _appalled_ ".

"Do I say it for  _them_? Hahaha! Daddy, no. I mean  _every_  word. I jest, though am no  _jester_ ".

"Keeping  _up_  appearances too".

"Better the devil you _know_  than the devil you  _don't,_  Dad...". Grace blinked, moderate sips of tea  _swallowing_  chutzpah. "I am inclined to say that my affection is strong,  _strange_  too. Its strange to let someone handle your heart. I know he wouldn't drop it, I certainly wouldn't his". She spoke boldly. "If I can make him happy, content with his appearance, I've done _alright_ , I reckon".

"Grace, I heard _more_  than that when Adam spoke to me. You  _outdid_  yourself, applying your brand of medicine that's without  _bullshit_ , no  _placebo_ , sugar pills, notwithstanding of their  _perceived_ usefulness. You gave him the tools to assist _himself_ ,  _without_  condescension,  _without_  suspicion. I am sure he gets enough of that, with his current profession, and being augmented. I have  _zero_ qualms with that, I want you to know that".

"It wasn't his choice, first, second, likely  _third_  either, but its the hand he was  _dealt_. He's coping well, doesn't need neuropozene either".

"I will say I  _was_  concerned with that. Hearing about its effects when it isn't taken regularly, or too much is taken  _stressed_  me a bit".

"Yes. The reports were _dulled_  down, to avoid public panic". She sighed. "Well, I can say with certainty that Adam is  _in_  my life, I have little to worry about other than relapses, though he deals with them efficiently. I'm  _happy_ , Dad".

Gregory was delighted, mahogany eyes gleaming, tears on bottom lashes.

"That's _all_  I ever wanted, Gracie"...

* * *

Grace felt emotion strike her, standing up to comfort her Dad. She _bear_  hugged him, recalling earlier wording.

"You did a _stellar_  job, if I do say so  _myself_ ".

"And you  _do_. You're right, as per usual. I taught you to  _observe_  your surroundings, especially how to gauge  _men_. Hence why any I did not like I had ties _cut_  soon. You may have thought me mean at first, however, it was for your protection, your safety".

"Not one bit. You were right to  _shield_  me. I did have a year or two of liking boys, wanting their attention a little _too_  much. College student stereotype. Amazes me today how much of a dullard I was. A right  _dolt_ ".

"You were young,  _hormonal_. We  _all_  were, at some point. However, you kept your cards  _close_  to your chest, never revealing your hand unless a man  _challenged_  you to a game of wits, not simply employing words known as 'flirting'".

Grace wasn't one for balking when her Father spoke of  _sex_. At some point, he'd  _had_  it, thus, creating her. He  _knew_  Grace had, and, as long as she was  _careful_ , giving her consent, as well as the other party, he held  _no_  apprehension.

To _keep_  her here for longer than a few hours, having been an  _age_  since he had seen her, Gregory asked something peculiar...

* * *

"Would you like to sleep in your old room? I  _still_  change the sheets, clean it every week.  _Feather_  duster and all".

Grace was  _touched_ , recalling wooden beams, cream coloured walls, the black shag carpet she loved between her _toes_. The window she would sit in front, look at the  _ancient_  willow tree in their garden. She wondered if it was still there, its trunk  _sturdy_ , thick. Or, had it wilted, in the  _twenty_  years she hadn't resided there?

"That would be _lovely_. Thank you, Father". She squeezed his hand. "Is Diane still here?"

Her Father nodded.

"Yes, but she lessened her grip over  _who_  gets to clean. I'd  _pay_  her, regardless".

Grace grinned.

"She's been here longer than I've been _alive._..".

"This reunion is _rapidly_  becoming 'pick on Father Day' isn't it?"

"Wouldn't  _quite_  say that. I'd call it  _hesitant_  phrasing, with  _touches_  of honesty".

"I'd call it as it is, fucking  _brazen_ , my dear".

The woman's jaw dropped, eyes dish saucers.

" _Daddy_! Hearing you swear is one of life's joys, one of my _favourite_  things in life. Doesn't beat the  _chocolate_  cake Mum made on my eighth birthday though". She shook her head at her much younger self, mouth  _smeared_  with chocolate cream, fingers more  _decorated_  than the cake itself..."I felt so  _sick_  that day".

"I did warn you not to have that  _second_  piece". Gregory tapped his nose. "Dad's _intuition_ , belly aches, with your Mother and I, by your bedside, a  _bucket_  behind our backs, just in case".

"The old willow tree?"

Brown, shaggy locks moved back and forth.

"Had it have it cut down  _eight_  years ago. It began _rotting,_  its core was all but  _gone_. It would have fallen by itself, and, as I felt sorry for it, I had it _felled_ ".

Grace's inclination  _soured_.

"What fucking daughter, an _only_  one at that doesn't visit her Father? Urgh". She made a face."Forgive me? I don't have a  _right_  to ask that, do I?"

" _Life_ , darling. You lived your _own_ , are living it. Couldn't possibly expect you to stay  _here_  all your life. If you had, you wouldn't have had the  _experiences_  that have shaped the woman I  _see_  before me. That woman is _brave_. You left here smart but  _inexperienced_. You made your way, worked  _hard_ , earned  _rightful_  praise, gained _life_  skills, a job that helps others in _need_  of aid,  _moulded_  yourself an  _excellent_  future. I could  _go_  on".

"I should come back here more  _often_. No matter my quandary, you manage to  _cheer_  me right on up".

"Can help others,  _abysmal_  at offering yourself peace?  _Family_  trait".

Grace smirked.

"Can I make it up to you? Do we at  _least_  still have the pantry? Shortbread?"

Gregory nodded enthusiastically.

"It is near tea time. Diane will be in the kitchen. She'll be  _shocked_  how much you've grown".

His daughter flattened her mouth.

"Is that _irony_? I stopped growing at  _eighteen_...". She stood, grabbing both mugs. "I may just eat _all_  the biscuits I make after  _that_...".

She potted into the hallway, feeling a little sneaky, making her way to the kitchen as quietly as possible.

* * *

Diane's facial expression changed upon seeing the younger woman, transforming into grandmotherly,  _protective_. She gasped, offering arms.

"Gracie!  _Look_  at you!"

Grace couldn't feel irritated.

"I  _haven't_  grown! Yay?" She hugged the housekeeper. " _Too_  long, I know. I threw myself into work,  _adult_  life. Never forgot about you or Dad however. I want to thank you, for looking after him". Grace gestured towards the living room. "After Mum died, he was a  _mess_ , distraught, I upped,  _left_  instead of doing more. You kept him  _sane_ ".

Diane's grey eyes crinkled, her forehead joining in.

"Dearie, he's never _been_  sane. One of the reasons I  _stuck_  with him, his employ. I had a few clients, they were  _boring_  as sin. Gregory? Never a dull moment, God be my _witness_ ".

Grace should have  _smacked_  herself...

"You heard all  _that_ , in the other room? That was  _wrong_  of me to speak like that. Its up to people what they  _choose_  to believe or not".

"Not going to judge you, dear. Free to speak what you  _feel_. Always liked that about you", the elder squeezed the younger's shoulder, " _don't_  change".

Grace smiled.

"Guessing from what I _just_  said? I certainly  _haven't_ ". The two ladies shared laughter. "Now, I  _promised_  to made Dad some shortbread. Just need to find the right cookery book. Help me out? They'll be a bottle of  _brandy_  in it for you"...

Grace's singsong tone had Diane cracking a grin, because she couldn't really  _sing_...

"What the Lord _doesn't_  know  _won't_  hurt Him"...

* * *

Grace pushed out her stomach, the few carrots on her plate looking lonely. It wasn't that she didn't eat her vegetables, it was that she was  _full._  Diane made enough to feed a  _small_  militia...

"Uff. I haven't been this full in some time. I'll wash up, _later_ ". She huffed. "Give me  _half_  an hour...".

Everyone chuckled at her after that ditty...

* * *

Near midnight found Grace in front of the fireplace, tracing veins in marble with her eyes.

"Dad".

Gregory looked up from a photo album.

"Mind if I take a photo of us, send it to Adam? I guess I'm feeling sentimental".

Gregory placed the book down, waving a hand.

"Okay, and don't say it. Age has  _zilch_  to do with sentimentalism".

His daughter chortled.

" _You_  just did...". She took out her phone, turning it to front face camera mode. The two smiled, a click signalling task complete. Flipping it over to see the picture, she fell reflective. "I look like  _you_ when I smile".

Her Father acceded.

"Like I when you smile, like your  _Mother_  otherwise".

She was unable to resist.

"Least I don't have those _teeth_ "...

* * *

With the picture sent to Adam, and a goodnight hug from Diane and Gregory, Grace went to bed, clutching thick duvet, grey, with white shooting stars scattered, different phases of the moon on the underside. The smell of fabric softener was comforting, her bed her  _sacred_  place, the house she was raised in her,  _forever_  home? If she stayed here, she would no longer be able to see _Adam_ , work in  _Oak Wood_. Staying here felt snug, she was  _safe_  from the world, its perils,  _pitfalls_.

With  _Adam_? She felt safer however, creatures  _beating_  their wings against her rib cage.

 _How_  could she leave her Father again? He _wasn't_  alone, but she may as well have _left_  him so.

_He'd understand. He travelled a long way to be with Mum. Doesn't mean I can't visit once in a while. Not once in a blue moon, Grace. Be fair, reasonable. Split your time..._

That voice had her pleasantly occupied, its authority,  _ordering_  her about, around the  _mulberry_  bush.

That mulberry bush be  _damned_. Grace would go back to Detroit, knowing her  _future_  lay there.  _This_  was her past, her current situation cradling, like the arms of her family, but it was her past, all the same.

She felt overcome with revelation,  _knowing_  where she wanted to be.

Where, with  _whom_  she belonged.


	25. Et Quod Post Vitam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're at the finale. I hope I've written Adam well, I hope you've enjoyed the story, and that, whether you celebrate or not, that the rest of the year is a peaceful, happy time for you. I want to thank all of you for the support, fan love and respect for this story. I know it isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I've had nothing but kindness. It means a lot to know people read/actually enjoy my version of fan art. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Addendum: I did research for this for two years before writing it, as I wanted to use correct terms, keep it within guidelines of mental health care/aftercare. Some seem to misunderstand the story's intentions. I never meant it in a way to mock these guidelines, or how doctor's treat patients. I wouldn't have ever had any negative intentions here or in any of my works*

Grace took off her coat, entering Adam's apartment code, manoeuvring through the door with a pet carrier in hand. She draped her jacket over the couch, putting the carrier beside it, on the floor.

"You know, you look  _exactly_  like your Dad when you smile"...

Adam's voice came from his bedroom. He huffed afterwards, as if he were picking up something heavy...

Grace's  _answer_  came when the man walked in, holding Freud, the canine barking loudly upon seeing his owner. She beamed.

"Hello Freud!" The fact the pup was now a tad  _chubby_  had her entertained. "Er, Adam?"

The way the woman said his name made Adam squint, as if he were  _about_  to be berated.

"Why is he  _fat?_  Don't get me wrong, nothing wrong with extra weight, I love him  _all_  the same".

Adam shifted to  _bemused_.

"Good. So,  _I_  can get fat then?"

Freud was put onto the couch, Grace tickling behind his ears as she sat next to him.

"Is that an excuse to eat terrible, additive filled,  _addictive_  foods? I am 100%  _okay_  with this". She peered at a box of mini marshmallows. "I shouldn't, but, fuck it, I would like a sugar fix. But, oh no!" Grace fabricated distress. "I've already sat  _down_!" She sighed. " _Whatever_  shall I do?"

Adam rolled his eyes exultantly.

"The point being"...he started, pliable smile colouring features, his eyes holding substance, "you want  _those_ ".

It  _wasn't_  a question, though Grace answered it.

"Yes". She sat back, looking up at her companion. His gaze coated her insides with igneous  _conflagrant_. She attempted sucking in breath, holding it inexplicably, reason being  _kissed_. This one felt different,  _secure_. Adam was secure, he'd given her the code to his home, his  _shelter_. No matter her reluctance, her profession telling her to move away, the woman, the  _romantic_  inside kissed him, scrunching couch fabric, in order to keep herself from turning, swinging her legs around, getting onto her knees, moving  _further_  beyond.

Freud's paws on her knee yanked her from the moment. Adam saw the pup _, both_  males content.

He left to the kitchen, leaving Grace shaking her head.

_What was that?_

She felt her cheeks flare, her environment tuned out, all focus trained on Adam...

* * *

Treats put into a small bowl, Grace curled digits, wanting to grab a handful, as one would popcorn. No one ate marshmallows  _one_  by  _one_...

" _Civilised_ , Grace". She took a few, studying the sweet, wondering what E number made them so  _pink_..."And, yes. When I smile, I do, indeed look like my Father. Wait". She popped the treats into her mouth, chewing methodically. "You like me"...

" _Bold_ ". Adam smirked. Grace returned it.

"And I look like my Dad. That mean you'd prefer  _him_  over me?" She held up her hands. "Hey, no judgement there. I'd rather people be their  _true_ , authentic selves".

Adam's ballsy smirk deepened.

"Eh, he's alright. I prefer his _daughter_ ".

 _"Bold"_. She retorted. "What was that before? You've no need to prove  _that_  to me".

"I  _won't_  kiss you again, then".

Grace's face turned stern.

"Exchanging pleasantries was rather  _pleasant_. We can stop, however. I came here to take Freud off your hands".

"Off my  _knee_ , but go on".

Adam's ilk went  _reserved_.

"I don't want to just leave with him. There's a  _reason_  I came here. I could have called a company to do this. Wouldn't have returned here, fed you affection, only to  _sod off_ ". She cleared her throat. " _Ask_  me to stay, I will.  _Tell_  me to leave, and I will".

She looked at her hands, determinedly forcing her head up, keeping hazels on green.

Freud was jostled off, onto a cushion, whines pining. Grace, this time initiated contact, reaching for Adam's hand. He took it, the two using it as leverage, his to pull, hers _letting_  herself be pulled.

Intimidation evaporated, the woman planted her lips on Adam's, the man returning tenderness, ardour shining through.

* * *

More than _humbled_  that Adam was giving her his heart, wearing it on his sleeve, Grace  _cocooned_  it, she was his escutcheon here.

She pulled away, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You're  _sure_  then".

They laughed, Adam tilting her head slowly to face his. Facial touches from the man were  _superior_  to intimacy. Grace dared not breathe, the moment was  _theirs,_  her breath could disrupt whist _rapture_.

Adam's nod grew withheld breath, letting it out was exhaling _steam_.

"Okay", the brunette acceded, "I'll go get ready".

Grace touched her forehead to his. Standing, she headed into the bathroom, apprehension mix with harmony.

* * *

The woman stripped all but her underwear, one of Adam's  _many_  black t-shirts slipped on. Catching sight of herself in the mirror brought forth snickers, the shirt more like a dress on her. A little too _short_  a dress (if she was at an event and had to bend, attendees would get quite the  _view_ ), but the  _only_  one seeing her held no disquiet, alarm.

Her slightly mussed up hair was combed through, fingers in place of a brush. She hadn't thought to bring one, only her toothbrush, which was in the room where Adam was...

 _No matter._  She put a hand to her mouth, breathing on it.  _I smell of childhood sweeties..._

That brought her back to the present  _immediately_.

_With a hint of bourbon, from the truffles Dad bought me..._

_That_  sounded adult, adult Grace  _preventing_  child Grace from sprinting, skidding latter to a halt as former shot  _past_  her.

Picking up her clothes, folding them neatly, placing them onto the shelf, clarity tugged at her.

Adam let  _her_  control the kiss, control herself being pulled into him. If she wanted to let go, his grip  _wasn't_  tight. She could have easily  _separated_  herself, had she not wanted to go further, venture  _closer_.

He wanted contact, but on  _her_  terms.

She wanted contact on  _both_ , but understood where he was coming from. It'd had been years for both, but his body took on a  _different_  form than hers. Flesh and bone versus flesh, bone, metal  _and_ augments? The woman desperately wanted him to know she didn't mind nor  _care_  about the latter two. What lay _inside_  was what drew her to him. Of course, his exterior wasn't _too_  hard to look at.

 _If_  she squinted...

Her body wasn't arguing either, following the vein her mind shot  _straight_  between her legs.

In a way, this was  _bizarre._ Her, standing in a bathroom, hand making its way across her body, onto spots she wasn't quite sure if it would do anything for her. She quickly worked out they  _did_ , when in the  _right_  mood.

Still, she kept as quiet as possible. She  _knew_  Adam knew, he had been with women  _before_ , knew what they did, as did he, to  _assist_  themselves.

It wasn't a good idea to imagine  _Adam_  was the one doing that. It wasn't a good one at all. That idea  _spurred_  her on, till she was no longer prowling, she was  _stalking_  feeling, civility well and truly  _fucked_.

* * *

Grace vaguely recalled hearing Adam getting up at some point. She gave him personal space, remaining in the bathroom. Whilst she knew what would happen, the woman was aware that her companion may not  _want_  her seeing him intimately. That was the reason she left  _on_  her underwear, throwing on a shirt so most of her was covered.

_Thank small mercies for being small..._

She snorted, eyes finding toilet roll. Cleaning up would  _undo_  some of what she'd accomplished, amazingly quickly, by  _her_  standards.

_Must have needed that..._

She bet Adam  _did_  too. Not quite the credit chit gambler, she'd bet via interactions.

_Bet him a kiss?_

Her Father _wouldn't_  be proud...

 _Fuck._ The woman's mind teetered, an imaginary  _seesaw_  between Gregory and Adam.

_Okay. Its been FAR too long if my mind can't focus on Adam for more than...actually...how long have I been in here?_

She popped her head out of the bathroom door. It had been _twenty_  minutes, she deduced. Adam wasn't in the room, as she'd first thought.

"Can I come out now? Everything okay?"

Adam's low grunt made her unease ease, levels of _need_  beginning to rear their head again.

* * *

Grace took a breath, making her way towards the bedroom, hands linked as she sat on the bed. The sheet was bunched around Adam's waist, she could see up until a line, which she presumed was boxers, following a trail of hair upwards, to the man's face. She tilted her head eminently, giving him the 'eye'.

"If  _that's_  your attempt at come on's, I suggest a  _different_  tack".

Grace smirked.

"It'll be  _different_ , alright".

Assuring themselves, Grace moved down, her elbows on Adam's chest, hands on his face.

"Better?"

She didn't give the man a  _chance_  to answer...

* * *

Adam shoved a fist in the bedside drawer, pulling out a few condoms. Grace sat up.

"I'm on the pill, but I'm okay with using those, if you want too".

Adam stated the truth flatly.

"Its better without, didn't want to  _assume_  though. I'd wear one anyway".

Grace asked a silly question she didn't need to voice.

"Do you  _want_  to wear one?"

_"No"._

Gruff, to the  _point_. She laughed.

"Thought _not_ "...

* * *

_Forehead scrunches, slight twitches_ , Grace found she grew fond of these. She had the privilege of watching, _feeling_  with Adam.

His eyes? Not intense. They were curious,  _eagerly_  taking in the sight of her. Most, being  _fully_  dressed wouldn't find it as interesting, not as much skin on show, purchase being _fabric_. However,  _both_ were in the moment, especially Grace. Adam's hands were on her hips, keeping her steady. For this, she was  _grateful_ , as emotion welled, threatening to spill over lashes into the creases of her eyes, sloping down her cheeks, onto the sheets below. They were not tears of upset, they were  _relief_ , some humour there too, lingering, this moment not  _too_  serious, for fear it would _tip_  one of them onto the floor, with a  _thud_...

* * *

Adam felt a coil, a knotted snake pressing against his spine, its pulse heating his skin,  _breathing_  up the ridges. The muscles of his stomach jumped, grabbing Grace's attention. She placed her hands just above his hips, _kneading_  slowly. This relaxed the twitching, working in her favour too,  _angle_  changing. Seeing her, working him out like a puzzle charmed him, body very much  _agreeing_  with his mind.

Still, he didn't quite like being read as  _effortlessly_  as Grace managed, thumbing volumes as if they were  _novels_ ,  _not_  single page pieces.

If the knot pulled any  _tighter_? He had to tell her,  _warn_  her, his brain switching to primal. If he took control, claimed her hips, he could _bruise_  her, finger prints purple  _reminders_  of his  _lack_  of restraint.

Grace saw the signs, spotted them in the _nick_  of time, doubling her efforts, shifting her hips again, taking Adam's hands, squeezing them.

Feeling was something the agent wasn't sure he could do anymore, was unsure if he was even allowed to.

Her controlled sounds became  _unsteady_  breaths, unrestricted, and god, did Adam want to  _hear_  her...

* * *

Grace cleared up in the bathroom, leaning on the counter afterwards. This thing between her and Adam? It exceeded words, varied vocabulary _failing_  her. Her increased pulse, rhythmic, gleeful mood, and totally _relaxed_  body? It was, so much so, she didn't wish to move, doing so making her  _swear_ , the pair too chipper to frown...

* * *

Once finished, she returned to the bedroom, hands wandering up her shirt, finding the clasp of her bra.

"Can't sleep with one on".

She extricated it from herself, fairly gracefully, folding the cups, placing it onto a chair.

"Uh. Mind if I join you?"

Her partner was confused. Grace clarified.

"I was _on_  the bed, not  _in_  it". She ruffled her hair, holding her elbow awkwardly at her side. "Just wasn't sure if you are as soft as I am".

Her answer was the man sitting up, offering arms. Grace walked back on over, plopping down into the sheets, moving them around her legs, and cuddling into Adam's side. Out of reflex, she placed her ear on his heart, its melody relaxing, in sync with hers.

This? This was _good_ , this felt wholly right, entirely _their_  moment.

And her wanting to sigh would  _ruin_  the moment, likely tickle the agent's chest. It was out of relief, the sigh, nothing of the adverse persuasion.

Adam's hand combing through her hair was far,  _far_  better than her own...

* * *

The next few days, Grace stayed in Adam's apartment, considering  _selling_  her own a few points in time. The same routine of coffee, breakfast, in general laziness never felt better. She potted about the kitchen, one of Adam's t-shirts and boy shorts on. Upon hearing Adam leaving the bathroom, Grace held out a fresh mug of coffee. Adam took it, but put it aside, holding her close. Taking her hands, he placed them under his shirt. Twitching fingers, nervousness fluttering, fingers skittered across his collarbone,  _occasionally_  touching a nodule. Grace kept her gaze on the floor, keeping the man's reactions a  _mystery_.

In response, the woman shifted his hands from her hips, under her,  _his_  shirt, shiver reverberating through the pair, cool fingers finding her spine. Grace arching into Adam had him sigh, the two finding each other's curves, dimples, dips, grooves between bones.

* * *

Adam's skin was  _warm_ , hot water bottle,  _electricity_  wove through Grace's fingertips, finding their way to her heart. Under his pectorals felt  _harder_  than around it. Moving, skirting over thrumming heart, threading through short hairs, grazing nails over his ribs lightly,  _subconsciously_  counting, subsequently  _fawning_  as his muscles twitched, the woman locating a  _ticklish_  spot.

She did not take advantage of this.

His back was trim, shoulder blades not too prominent, the tops of his arms fusion augment and skin. If anything, they intrigued the woman, their functioning exactly as flesh and bone limbs a  _marvel_ of science.

Lingering on hipbones, she paused, letting Adam  _map_  out her body.

* * *

Slight  _ridges_  on the pads of his fingers were a pleasant surprise, raising fine hairs, scratching in the way it felt when you located an itch you  _really_  needed to get at. Grace's skin was supple, _sensitive_ , her pulse a hum in his mind, he an intrepid _explorer_. Finding her spine, Adam was  _riveted_  how she reacted, body  _glued_  to his. Trepidation found him, one set of digits tracing  _invisible_  patterns towards her sternum, the others moving  _up_...

That's when Grace wriggled, moaning deftly. She looked at Adam quizzically, shrewdness hinting through.

"I was waiting for you". She gestured southward with her eyes. "Don't act like you don't  _know_  where my hands are". To add to her point, she hooked a finger around his boxers. "I'm good, bit of _help_ wouldn't go amiss"...

Her  _less_  than subtle indication of her predicament gave fuel to the fire, Adam's  _deviousness_  brought to life. He held a poker, Grace holding coal, occasionally throwing a piece in the hearth. The man  _poking_  the lumps entertained his lover no end...

* * *

She waved a hand.

" _Zoning_  out on me? Am I that bad?" She questioned. " _Christ_. I know its been a while, but, I thought I'd withheld  _some_  skill"...

Adam kept her eyes, utilising a whisper he'd realised Grace _melted_  at...

"I'll  _let_  you know".

Grace held reverence, Adam's guard lowered for her. She cared, but was unable to vocalise it.

She chose to  _show_  him.

She whispered in return, attempting 'sexy'.

"Too bloody _right_ "...

* * *

"You know, I prefer you like this". She gestured at his chest, shy smile gracing her features. "Seeing you is heart warming,  _humbling_ ".

Lying on the couch, on Adam's chest specifically, other than the angle causing a  _crick_  in her neck was delightful.

"I don't get naked for just  _anyone_ "...

Grace snorted.

"Compliment? I'll _take_  it". She nuzzled him, imprecating obvious predilection. "Neither do I. Too bloody nippy. May well _lose_  said nips if I  _paraded_  around naked".

"In  _your_  apartment? Yeah. In  ** _ours_**?"

The brunette sat up, mouth agape, jaw having to work harder than usual.

"Huh? Do my ears  _deceive_  me?"

Her fellow brunette confirmed no auditory mishaps.

"We're busy, we work long hours, we don't see each other often. When we do? Its _five_  minutes tops, and I don't do  _quickies_. Fuck all point to them".

The woman expelled air.

"Five minutes is  _fine_ , I'll have you know. Doesn't need to be hours. Hours would  _hurt_ "...she grimaced, "hence 'help needed'. Its a  _requirement_ , not a given".

She pondered.

"I wasn't  _selfish_ , was I?"

Taken aback, Adam kissed her forehead, lifting up his chin, Grace's head neatly slotting into the groove of his neck.

"We did our  _fair_  share". She amended. "Should we clean up?"

" _Probably_ ".

" _Squeegee_?"

The woman shirked that idea.

" _Mop?_ "

That wasn't applicable either.

"I don't want to  _move_ ".

Adam affirmed.

"Wasn't planning on moving, so, you're  _stuck_ ".

Grace huffed,  _sassy._

"Thus, I  _cannot_  move, therefore domestic duties can wait, lest it  _start_  a domestic"...

Adam groaned.

"You are  _insufferable_ ".

Grace retorted, painting diagonal lines on his abdomen, index finger pressing timidly.

"And you are a bloody  _handsome_  chap".

The man wasn't expecting that as witty repartee...

"I am  _not_  letting go".

Acknowledging exchanged amiable looks, Grace smiled.

"As long as you want my  _strange_  self, I'm here".

Adam's stomach jumped, mind giving the green light.

"That mean you're staying?"

"I have to hire a removal company, and retrieve some clothing. Why do you think your shirts are going _missing_ , or the washer is  _full_  of black clothing? My underwear can only be  _changed_  so much, when you have three pairs, have _lost_  one, and I think another pair is under the  _damn_  couch...". She gestured down. " _Scan_  it, pretty please?"

Adam closed his eyes.

"I'm not scanning the floor, not after... _earlier_ ".

"Oh, yeah. Huh.  _Really_  need to sort that out"...

Adam kept his arms around her, tightening them.

"That involves _moving_ ".

"I'm  _averse_  to motion".

" _Already_?" Sarcasm shone through. "Upping my game, as we  _speak_ "...

Grace's tone took on bashful.

"Could always scan  _me_. You can hack things, unlock locks, pretty sure you'd _manage,_  with little old me..."

Her lover smacked his forehead.

"Oh  _god_ ".

"Once things are settled", Grace kissed Adam's cheek, "I shall be moving in". She held back what she truly wished to say, pulling a face. "Can I use the  _word?_ "

Adam refused to tease lifted tension off the woman's shoulders.

"I", she began, "I find myself  _smitten"_.

She  _bottled_  it...

Adam responded, long, slow kissing following words of tenderness, cuddling, smooth metal easing knots in tatty brunette locks. Saying a word  _laden_  with emotion was challenging for both, more so _Adam_. Anyone he loved he'd lost,  _somewhere_  in the gloom, the  _truth_  taking the form of a spear of light,  _ramming_  its meaning into his head,  _blinding_  him.

That meant he would  _see_  the truth, for  _all_  it was worth.

It wasn't like he  _had_  a choice here.

Grace  _gave_  him a choice, as he did her.

They  _chose_  to be there,  _together_.

* * *

Freedom remained a challenge, but Grace  _joined_  him in the fight. He was forever appreciative for her  _arms_ , his support when he  _stumbled_ , scaffold built high. Creating forts was for  _children_ , pillows  _remaining_  in his bedroom.

Grace remained with him, staying, no matter if the mood turned  _sour_ , room _dour_ ,  _solemn_  silence in place of  _answers_.

Silence  _was_  an answer for Grace,  _applicable_ , Adam's appreciation for that  _vast_...

* * *

Adam's silence told Grace more than if he'd  _spoken_. When he fell quiet, lack of display externally made her aware that it was _internal_. What he felt was kept inside, locked behind iron doors. He handed her the key the  _first_  time they found solace in one another.

She held it in her palm metaphorically, thoughts on whether or not to _use_  it.

If Adam  _allowed_  it, why not?

Him allowing it spoke  _volumes_  Grace was all too ready and willing to  _read_.

She used the key, bringing forth feelings, spilling out as  _radiant_  streaks of light, fireworks alight.

She set into  _motion_  this 'thing', and what a thing it was.

What a thing _they_  were, indeed...


End file.
